


Where Life Begins

by only_love_can



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It’s Pretty Crazy My Dudes!™, Maybe I Should Have Googled How To Write A Fight Scene, Mild Language, My First Fanfic, Peter Parker Deserves Better, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Please Don’t Hate Me, Post-Endgame, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is My Italian Homeboy, Tony Stark Prosthetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 25,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25594564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_love_can/pseuds/only_love_can
Summary: Five years had passed. The world had lost so much. Tony Stark knew that as much as the next person, but he was also lucky enough to gain something; family. That was the only thing on his mind the moment he snapped his fingers.His family—his whole family—would get the chance to live.And just maybe, he would get the chance to witness it.OR: Tony figures out time travel for the family he left behind. He uses the Infinity Stones, saves the universe, and survives to get the chance to reap the rewards of it. It’s more than he had ever dreamed possible, but what would he do when Nick Fury gets in the way of that?
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58





	1. Great Scott!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic ever (so please be gentle with me)! I’ve been working on it for a little while now, and I’m finally to the point where I’m 73% satisfied. Seeing how that’s more than half, it’ll do!
> 
> I’m always looking to better my writing skills. That being said, I’m open for constructive criticism, so please message me if you have any helpful tips!
> 
> Anyways, here’s the story, and I hope you like it! :)
> 
> —Kate

_**Stark’s Lakeside Cabin** _

_**October 11, 2023** _

“The stones are in the past. We could go back. We could get them.”

“We could snap our own fingers. We can bring everybody back.”

Tony tried reasoning with his old teammates. This so called “time heist” was beyond anything in the man’s field. It was beyond anyone’s field, for that matter. They were talking time travel, an experiment completely disregarding logic. His teammates were asking him to make science fiction—no, fantasy—a reality.

Then there was the matter of this plan actually working. Maybe Steve, Natasha, and Scott were right. What if they could go back in time? Would they just take the stones without running into Thanos? Would they simply snap half of the universe back into existence and go home?

“Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?”

“I don’t believe we would.”

Tony rolled his eyes, arguing again and explaining the insanity behind the proposal. Optimism wasn’t going to be on their side this time. It wasn’t tangible or logical. Heck, he couldn’t imagine that time travel could possibly be safe. Tony couldn’t just risk his own safety anymore. He had a family to take care of now.

“I believe the most likely outcome will be our collective demise,” he concluded.

“Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel,” Scott piped in. “That means no talking to our past selves, no betting on sporting events-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Scott. Are you seriously telling me that your plan to save the universe is based on Back to the Future?” Tony asked without a hint of humor in his voice.

“...No.”

“Good. You had me worried there, cause that would be horse shit.”

“Tony,” Natasha started, “we have to take a stand.”

“We did stand, and yet here we are.”

“I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife, a daughter. But I lost someone very important to me,” Scott admitted, never taking his eyes off of Tony’s. “A lot of people did, and now, now we have a chance to bring her back, to bring everyone back! And you’re telling me that you won’t even-”

“That’s right, Scott. I won’t even. I can’t.” There was no way Tony was about to risk losing everything he had ever wanted just to undo what was already done. There was too much at stake.

Tony had his second chance. What more could he ever ask for?

xXx

As he worked in the lab that night, Tony couldn’t help but think about Scott’s words. They repeated in his head, over and over like the dreams that haunted him after dark.

_We have a chance. We have a chance, we have a chance, we have a chance._

They held a longing that Tony was far too familiar with. They carried such sadness and desperation, but something unfamiliar as well.

There was hope. It was only an idea, a spark, but Tony knew from experience that that was enough to hold on to.

Over the past five years, little by little, he had been picking up the pieces. He found the things that kept him afloat; he had Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Morgan. He had his family together and happy.

But something was still missing. As much as he hated to admit it—as much as he had tried to move on—Tony was still missing a piece. A part of him was still empty and maybe he would never really stop grieving.

Maybe that was why he couldn’t get his mind to focus on the invention at his desk.

“FRIDAY,” he sighed, dropping the screwdriver in his hand onto the metal desk with a _clank_. So much for taking his mind off things. “Pull up video files on Spider-Man.”

“On it, Boss.” A large, holographic screen appeared out of thin air. Hundreds of files lit up the screen.

“Play file 62, would you dear?”

“Of course. File 62: July 18, 2017.” The screen showed the recordings of the Spider-Man suit, as said hero sat on the top of some apartment building, legs swinging off the side. A wonderful, cheerful voice filled the lab as the video began.

“Hey Mr. Stark!... Or Happy, or whoever takes these calls.” Tony chuckled despite the raw sadness of it all. “It’s Peter Parker again. I guess that’s obvious. I’m recording from my suit. Oh, and thank you again for the suit, Mr. Stark. Honestly, it’s amazing! I could have never done this on my own.”

In the recording, the fiery sun was setting over Queens, painting the sky with reds and indigos. Civilians could be seen walking the streets below. The sound of the train stopping in the distance could be heard. There was just so much life, reminding Tony of another, better time. Peter looked down toward the street corner, bringing three cop cars into view.

“I stopped another robbery today. The guys weren’t even armed, which was _really stupid_ ,” the boy laughed, “so it was a piece of cake. The police are taking care of the rest of it. Oh yeah, and there was this little kid who got lost, so I helped him find his parents. His mom and dad even said I was his favorite superhero! It was so cool!”

The goofy smile was so evident in Peter’s voice. He loved helping people and being Spider-Man. It honestly hurt to remember how good the kid was. And now he was gone.

The video continued to play in the background as a tear slipped down Tony’s face. It had been five years. 66 months. 2,038 days. How did he still manage to have tears to cry? But regardless, there he was, choking on silent sobs as he listened to the sound of a lost boy.

Tony learned during those five years that Peter wasn’t just another kid from YouTube. He wasn’t just another energetic, fun-loving teenager. He wasn’t just a brave, masked vigilante protecting the world from harm. Of course, Tony had known all of these things about Peter, but he found something deeper within himself as well. Tony ended up really liking him. He did what he could to take care of him and keep him safe. If he was being completely honest, he would even say that he held another emotion for the kid. He was just too fearful to use such a word... Family. He had settled on the word “family.” Peter had a special way of finding his way into someone’s heart and just staying there. Forever. No matter what. And now, he was a missing piece, leaving an emptiness that Tony traced back all the way to when his parents died.

Videos upon videos played without Tony taking notice, his mind was fogged by grief. Images on the screen blurred together through his misty vision.

“File 109: October 6, 2017.”

Tony froze when he recognized the date. It was Moving Day, the night of Peter’s homecoming. It was the night that he stopped the Vulture alone and without a suit. The file only contained grainy audio from the kid’s phone.

“Hey, Happy. It’s Peter. Parker,” he groaned, too exhausted for fake energy. “Look, everything’s under control. I got the Vulture. He didn’t get away with anything. Can you just, um...” Peter paused, leaving a heavy silence in the air. Tony imagined him running his hands nervously through his filthy curls. The distant sound of sirens took over before he spoke up again.

“Can you tell Mr. Stark that I’m so sorry? About his stuff? I didn’t mean to crash his plane, I swear, but...” His voice became wet and shaky. “It was my fault, and I’m sorry.”

Tony really did love everything about the kid, other than his endless need to apologize. He looked at himself too harshly; the kid really was his own worst critic. The thought would make Tony laugh if it weren’t for his sorrow.

Tony could never let go of the nagging feeling whenever Peter apologized. It was like the kid thought he owed him something—respect or honor or whatever. Tony hated it. He hated the way the kid had always rushed to fix the simplest things with an “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark!”

He had no need to apologize. He did everything right. He did everything so perfectly and he looked up to Tony?

And then there were those dreams again, always repeating those last words on a distant planet.

_I’m sorry._

Hell, the kid felt the need to apologize as he was _dying_ , like he owned Tony for being killed. Peter apologized to Tony when _he_ was the one who was murdered?

It was the world that owed Peter Parker. It was never the other way around. It was Tony who owed Peter for everything; for being a crappy mentor; for not trusting him enough; for dragging him into more trouble than he asked for; for not admitting to him that he...

He loved Peter. He loved him then and he still did five years later, even though he had absolutely no right. Tony failed him in just about every way possible. Peter changed his life for the better, and for that he owed him everything.

_I’m sorry._

_I’m sorry._

What was Tony to give him now when he was nothing but a memory?

_We have a chance._

A chance.

_We have a chance to bring everyone back!_

Maybe he could get a second chance. Not for himself—he already got one of those, many of those. This one would be for the kid.

There was that spark... that hope. Tony tried to be careful with it, but his brained worked faster than he would have liked. He could give Peter a second chance, maybe. He could find a way. He _would_ find a way. He would give the kid what he deserved: life—in all its fullness and wonder.

He could do that much, right?

xXx

“I got a lot of inspiration. Let’s see if it checks out. So I can run one last sim before we pack it in for the night. This time in the shape of a Möbius strip, inverted please.”

“Processing...”

The projection lit up before Tony while FRIDAY did as requested. “Alright, give me that eigenvalue, that particle factoring in spectral decomposition. That’ll take a second.”

“Just a moment.”

“And don’t worry if it doesn’t pan out,” Tony told FRIDAY while he studied the hologram. “I’m just kinda...” he casually gestured.

“Model rendered.”

Lights filled the model as data loaded. Tony barely noticed how he was holding his breath, body tensing with anticipation. His spark exploded into a flame as soon as he read the lit up words:

_MODEL SUCCESSFUL_


	2. Don’t Go Gentle

_**Avengers Compound Battleground** _

_**October 14, 2023** _

“Mr. Stark?”

Battle cries were silenced.

“Can you hear me? It’s Peter.”

The meaning of it all was fleeting. Hot or cold? Light or dark? Victory or defeat? Existence or oblivion?

“We won, Mr. Stark.” A voice solidified a single truth. They won. The fight was over. They brought everybody back.

He had Peter back.

The scene before him was fading at the edges, but maybe that was okay. This whole dying thing wasn’t the anguish or anarchy that he had always envisioned. Through the pain that would soon be gone, it was almost peaceful—like finding the rest that he searched for his entire life. Yeah, it was like finding rest.

Peter’s cries were quieting. His face came in and out of focus, but his big, brown, beautiful eyes could still be made out as the world disappeared.

Tony smiled.

He had his kid back, his whole family, and nothing was going to take that from him now.

xXx

When he lost his parents, Peter was numb.

When he lost his uncle, Peter was numb.

There had always been hard days in the midst of the fog. There were times of utter despair within the detached kind of grief.

He thought that he had gotten used to the feeling of losing those he loved. It dawned on him, as he stared through watery eyes at the blank wall of the Sanctum, that he was horribly wrong in his assumption. _Third time’s a charm_ , he supposed.

When he lost his mentor, Peter was unraveling at the seams.

The whole world was, really. Five years had gone by. Half of the population suddenly came back from the dead. Everyone was just trying to pick up the pieces like they did after the first snap.

The memorial services soon followed. The news of Mr. Stark’s death was on every channel on every television. The headlines followed Peter everywhere he looked. Tens of thousands of people gathered in Central Park on a gray-sky day to celebrate the man’s life.

They celebrated it, yet they didn’t even know the half of it.

They knew nothing about him. The world mourned Iron Man while Peter was mourning Mr. Stark. Everyone else lost a suit, but Peter lost the man inside it. No one else lost a mentor or an idol or a... something.

_Forget it_ , he repined, _he was like a father to me_. There was no point in hiding that now. There was no shame in attachment now that he was gone.

Mr. Stark was gone.

He was gone, and he was never coming back. No more late nights in the lab. No more upgrades to Peter’s suit. No more witty jokes or missions fighting bad guys or smiles that made him believe he had found where he belonged. No more. No more. _No more!_

That’s when the floodgates burst.

Peter felt sick—so hurt and sick, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he had gone to battle with Thanos or because he was alive after five years of being dead. He just wanted to cry and scream and beg whatever god would listen to take him instead!

He knew, as he gasped on suffocating cries, that he was such an idiot. Just a stupid little boy with no business wishing upon a star. He was never meant to have a father. He selfishly questioned the universe why he couldn’t be allowed to feel a father’s love for more than a moment.

Peter dwelled on the feeling of Mr. Stark’s hug, and subconsciously, he wondered if he would ever be loved like that again.

Mr. Stark was gone, and Peter never told him he loved him.

_Did he never know?_

The tears fell for longer than he imagined was possible. Peter’s own arms replaced the phantom hold of his memories and he hugged himself tightly. Maybe if he held his trembling frame tight enough, he could feel his mentor with him again.

The light dulled in the makeshift hospital room. The sound of rain against the old window replaced Peter’s sobs long after his eyes had dried out. His hiccups continued when his tears would not. His heart raced on while his mind had stopped. Darkness, in every sense of the word, kept into the room, and exhaustion with it.

The boy, unraveling at the seams, fell asleep to the sound and the internal torment of the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry. It’ll get better, I swear.


	3. Guided By A Beating Heart

_**New York Sanctum** _

_**November 27, 2023** _

“I assure you, director. This procedure is completely harmless. Just let me do what needs to be done, and you should be able to speak with him.”

“And he’ll be fine from this point forward?”

“Believe me, I wish it was that simple.” Strange paused his preparations to look Nick Fury in the eye. “The body may be easily manipulated through the mystic arts. The brain is much more complicated and delicate than that. It will still need its time to heal and adjust on its own. The point here is to offer his body enough equilibrium to begin a steady healing process.”

“I trust you will keep this whole thing quiet, Strange. You wouldn’t like to see the results otherwise.”

“My goal is to keep balance in the multiverse. I wouldn’t dream otherwise.”

With that, the two men stepped into a separate room. It was spacious and brighter with natural light in comparison to the other areas of the Sanctum. It was the best place for Strange to work on his most critical patient.

Tony Stark rested in a bed in the middle of the room. Machines of various sizes lie scattered around, giving off the only noise in the silent space. Dr. Strange stood at the edge of the bed, taking in the billionaire’s vitals like he had been for almost two months now. Life support had been doing wonders for the past couple of weeks. It had done its job though, and now it was time for Tony to do the job on his own.

With a clap, flick, and twist of the hands, orange light flickered out of thin air, yellow particles dancing like shining stars. The energy in the room stilled as the mystical aura formed an atmosphere around the body in bed. It all disappeared with a flash, and the beeping of the monitors began to steady out.

“Well?...”

“The spell was effective,” Strange conformed, as if nothing had happened. “Stark’s body is reacting well. We just need to wait for his mind to catch up, so don’t be surprised if he experiences some lag time.”

“Thank you, Strange. You may go now.”

The doctor turned to Fury, glaring without too much danger in his eyes. “He is my patient in the Sanctum that I have sworn to protect. I believe I have the right to excuse myself.”

It was at this time that Tony seemed to perk up slightly, always ready for an argument. Fury and Strange took notice, pausing in their back and forth to study the man.

Tony glanced at his surroundings, eyes barely opened. There were two fuzzy figures with him, and when his eyes adjusted just enough, he groaned in response.

Ah, so it was his two least favorite humans in the world.

“Lucky for you,” Strange turned to Fury again and spoke in a hushed tone, “I have other tasks to tend to. I will leave you both to be. Call me if you must.”

He left, leaving Fury with Tony as the latter woke up slowly.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark. Very good to see you up.” Fury found his way into one of the chairs across from the bed. He leaned forward, eyes narrowed, always serious and skeptical. “Sleep well?”

“Wha-?” The drugs in his system (and likely some sort of symptoms of magic) certainly didn’t help with his orientation.

“You’ve been out on the bench for a while now, Stark—six and a half weeks, to be exact. A lot has changed.”

This information seemed to mean nothing to Tony. The wheels in his mind were turning but much slower than usual. A blessing in disguise, perhaps, on Fury’s end.

“In case you were concerned, the world is doing just fine, thanks to you,” the man said, his tone actually hinting at some sort of pleasure. “It was strange for the people, suddenly finding their lost loved ones years after their deaths, but they got back on their feet. You did good, Stark.”

“Mhm. Always do.”

“Glad to see you’ve worked on your humility.”

Tony’s eyes traveled lazily, landing on a spot on his bed. He stilled and seemed to sober in an instant as he took in the empty space where his right arm should have been.

Tony felt like this should be a bigger deal to him than it was. Maybe it would be later.

“That’s new,” was all he could think to say. This was big, wasn’t it? He was supposed to have two arms, right?

“It was beyond saving. I have my top engineers working on a prototype prosthetic.” Fury looked sorry—as sorry as a man like Nick Fury could look, Tony thought. “Considering the fact that you’re here with us, you’re a very lucky man.”

Tony barely seemed to care about his luck. There were more pressing matters. “Is my family here?”

“I suggest you get some rest.”

“Where are they,” he asked, combining worry with frustration. “I need to see them. Where are they? Bring me my family.”

“Tony,” the man sternly said. “You’re dealing with things that you do not understand.”

That was all it took for Tony to find his voice. “After everything that’s happened, you’re sticking with the same line? I’ve seen it all. I went to hell and back. I think I understand plenty.”

“Tony-”

“Bring me my family. I need to see them. They’re waiting for me!”

“They think you’re dead, Tony.”

There was a long, heavy pause. The words hit Tony like a truck. The pain was numb and dull before it struck full force. _What?_

“Pepper, Rhodes, your daughter, among others, had a private funeral four weeks ago. They all believe you died of your injuries.”

His heart broke in a way that he had never felt before. His friends thought he died on the battlefield? His wife thought she was a widow? His daughter thought her daddy wasn’t coming back home? This sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach was some horrible mix of grief, guilt, and rage.

_Yep. It was mostly rage._

“You better have a good explanation for this, cause I’ll tell you what,” Tony growled. “you won’t like what happens when you mess with my family.”

“Ooh, family man’s lost his edge,” he said, teasing but still holding all seriousness. “I am the only one on your side, Stark.”

Another beat of silence filled the air as Tony processed Fury’s words, his jaw clenched tight and his heart monitor picking up speed.

“There is a select few who currently know of your status: Dr. Strange and I, along with several of my most esteemed agents. We want to keep this access of knowledge as limited as possible.”

“And what game are you playing now? Why the hell are you letting my wife and daughter sit at home thinking I’m dead? Fury, they need me.” He hid his desperation with white hot intensity.

“We can’t let this information get to the public. The world has no idea that you are alive. If anyone else knows-”

“They need to know!” Tony shouted. “What do you plan to do with me that my family can’t know about?”

“The world is changing, Stark. Has been for a while. You know this.”

He did.

“A presence like yours draws in the kinds of people that we don’t want on our hands at a time like this. For the time being, it is best that the people, good and bad, believe that you were KIA. For the sake of the greater good, you will be permitted very little access to the outside world. We have a place for you to stay at S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters.”

“So now I’m your prisoner.” He laughed without any humor. “I just saved the universe and, oh yeah, brought you back from the dead, and this is the justice I get?” He paused, reflecting on everything, his family at the front of his mind.

_It’s always you._

“You know what,” Tony started, raising his brows, “do what you want with me. You can put me in a cell, not tell a soul that I’m there, let the world keep believing your lies. You can leave me there to rot, if you think that’s all I’m good for. But let me tell you this, because Pepper-” Her name got caught in his throat. “My wife thinks that she is without her husband. She’s all alone, mourning while still trying to raise a little girl who, by the way, is a handful with both of us there. And what about her, huh? What are you going to tell my five-year-old when she asks about me?”

“What she’s already been told,” he retorted.

“You’re disgusting,” Tony said, voice gravely and ominously deep. “You say you guard protection. You stand for justice and peace and this is what you have to show for it? Lying traitor.”

Fury stood silently, never taking his stare off the man in front of him.

“You know I care about you, Tony.” The man in the bed scoffed at his words. “We’re fighting for the same thing. I’m trying to defend our world.” After a few moments of silence, Fury continued. “I will allow you to stay at home with your family. Think of it as, I don’t know, compensation for this whole mess. Keep in mind that there are certain conditions for this.”

“Great. What do you want?” At that point, he would give the man just about anything. There was no price in his mind that could keep him from Pepper and Morgan.

“You must remain inside the set perimeter of your house at all times. You step outside, you don’t go back in.”

“House arrest. Just like old times.”

“We must limit the amount of people who are in on our secret. Those who already know, plus your wife and daughter, are the only people who may know. Understand?”

Tony pondered before nodding hesitantly.

“These people will be your only communication. There will be no other contact with the outside world.”

“What about my friends—Rhodey, Happy, Bruce? They can’t at least know?” The thought of not being able to communicate with these people already crushed Tony. How could he bear the thought of them still grieving while he was alive?

“We don’t want any sort of publicity here.”

“What about the kid?” The words came out of his mouth before he had even processed the painful reality. “Dammit, Fury. What about Peter?”

“We can’t risk anything. All it takes is a single person to share their suspicions and before you know it, the truth is on every news station. We can’t take that kind of chance.”

Tony would look back on this moment later, wishing he had done more. He would regret the way that he hadn’t fought for the kid. He would hate that he had just let it go without an argument.

At the end of the day, the combination of mind-numbing drugs, magical spells, and the news that had been told left Tony with little options.

For now, he would have to settle for what he had. Tony didn’t have his friends or his freedom or his kid, but he came out with Pepper, Morgan, and his life. For those things, he was forever grateful.

xXx

It wasn’t long before Fury was able to bring Tony’s family to the Sanctum. It was a lazy Saturday. The streets of New York City were as quiet as they could be. Delicate rays of sunshine peaked through the clouds. It was almost peaceful.

Tony found himself adrift in his pleasant thoughts when the door was opened.

It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. His wife, who must have gotten dressed in a hurry by the looks of it, stood expectantly in the doorway. Her makeup-free face was one of Tony’s favorite things in the whole world, with her highlighted freckles and shimmering blue eyes. It was incredible how easy it was for her to completely take his breath away.

Holding her hand was his daughter—his precious, magnificent little girl. It was obvious, taking in her polka dot dress and striped leggings, that she had dressed herself. She bounced a little on the balls of her tiny feet, always curious and full of energy.

_So_ , Tony pondered, _this is the reason why I’m still here._

Fury held the door open for the company, but Pepper planted herself where she stood. Her gaze traced around the room, to the hospital bed, up to her husband’s face. Her eyes grew infinitely wider with an infinitely greater amount of wonder. Tony tried to ignore the way his wife’s face had fallen just slightly.

“Is... is that... is he...?” Pepper was never one to stumble over her words, but she was at a loss as she looked to Fury with pleading eyes.

“He’s alright, Mrs. Stark. He’s alive and well.”

Pepper looked like she might argue. She had perfectly good reason to, Tony thought. Her husband had been dead for over a month. How could he suddenly be back?

How could this have happened?

Tony smiled to her in an attempt to offer some sort of reassurance. Apparently, it had worked. Everything about Pepper brightened up as she took her first step into the room, Morgan’s hand in her’s.

Her voice was soft and hesitant when she spoke. “Tony?”

“Hey, Pep.”

Pepper cried. There were no words powerful enough to convey the emotions in the room. If Tony were to give it a shot, he would say that everything weighed down on him while his world got so much lighter—that sadness and happiness were both rolled into one unexplainable supernova of love.

_Gosh, fatherhood turned him into such a sap._

“Hey, baby,” Pepper said as she picked up Morgan and placed her on her hip. “Do you see who it is?”

Tony could tell the exact moment the realization sunk in. Her eyes sparkled and she gave a toothy smile.

“Daddy!”

“Hi, Morguna.” He gave her all the energy he could muster. Pepper brought her to the side of the bed, and with a silent nod of permission from Tony, she sat her next to him.

Tony looked up to see Nick Fury still standing in the doorway, a careful expression on his face. Tony mouthed the simple words to him, hoping the man understood what this meant to him.

_Thank you._

Fury nodded, and Tony could have swore that there was a hint of a smile on his face before he left to let the family be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah frick it’s going down.


	4. I Believe In Yesterday

_**Stark’s Lakeside Cabin** _

_**May 31, 2024** _

Tony groaned as he sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Out of the bedroom window, he could see the sun begin to peek through the trees, its golden light glistening over the water of the lake.

FRIDAY alerted him as a holographic screen appeared without warning.

“Boss, Director Fury is calling for a third time in the last two minutes. May I pick up for you?”

Sleep pulled on Tony, and he so badly wanted to ignore the call. He reasoned, though, that it could be something important. No one ghosts Nick Fury.

“Sure, FRI.”

“Well, it’s about damn time,” Fury said as the call transferred. His face filled the screen and Tony put some sort of effort into looking a little more alive.

“I thought that when I agreed to hang up the armor in the closet, I would stop getting yelled at at...” Tony checked the time at the corner of the screen, “5:48 in the morning.”

“I need to speak with you, Stark. It’s urgent.”

“Good morning to you too.”

Tony looked down to see his wife sleeping soundly. As quietly as possible, he got out of bed, threw on a robe, and made his way downstairs to the couch.

“What’s wrong, Fury? Did something happen,” he asked with his voice low and serious. Fury seemed to be studying something out of Tony’s view.

“We’ve been tracking some unusual activity around the globe. A village in Mexico was just destroyed today by a cyclone.” He paused.

“Which happens. What do you want me to do about it? Relief fund? Public outreach? Oh, wait. I’m dead. Never mind.”

“Stark, there’s more. There are reports from witnesses saying that the cyclone had a face.” Tony sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He was never going to get a break, was he?

“Alright. That’s a little more out of the ordinary.”

“We just want you to be aware of the circumstances. If the situation escalates-”

“You’ll need Iron Man? Fury, you know I can’t-”

“We may need the help of your security and defense system.”

“I gave EDITH to the kid. That defense system is his to use, if he needs it.” _I need to keep my kid safe_ , he left unsaid.

“And the rest of the world doesn’t?”

There was a beat of silence as Tony thought. Did he honestly trust Fury with his defense system? He shook his head as his eyes wandered to the window and the lake outside.

“I’m confident that we’ll get the extra help we’re looking for, but if the time comes... I need security.”

“I’ll consider it, Eyepatch. Good luck with the weather watching. Now I’m going back to bed.”

“Tony-”

“FRIDAY, end call please. Thank you.”

The holograph disappeared with the swipe of his hand and he was left with the quiet cabin. It was funny, Tony pondered, that just when he thought he could live a pseudo normal life, there had to be robots or aliens or gods or something.

Tony was floating in uncharted waters. But this was what he did. He was a mechanic. He was a scientist. He was a hero. He fixed things.

xXx

It was just over a week later when Tony got an alert from FRIDAY. He was sitting on the dock while Pepper and Morgan played in the lake. He watched his family, enjoying their laughter and fun, when her voice came through his shades.

“Boss, I’m getting an alert from Mr. Parker’s suit.” Tony starred, dumbfounded for a moment before he remembered his words.

“What do you mean? Was there a malfunction?” He knew that the kid hadn’t put on the suit since the battle, minus on one occasion that, according to Pepper, was for a charity event. He didn’t blame the kid and in all honesty, he didn’t expect him to wear the suit for a while.

“That doesn’t appear to be the case,” FRIDAY said matter-of-factly, “Mr. Parker put on his suit two minutes ago.”

“I thought he was supposed to be on a class trip.”

“He is. He is currently in Venice, Italy with his class on a science trip.”

“So you’re telling me that the kid’s on the other side of the world on vacation, and yet he’s putting on his suit?”

“That is what I told you.”

“Honey,” Pepper called from the lake. She held Morgan in her arms, even with the floaties on her arms. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I just... I need to go handle something.”

Tony ran down to the lab and activated screens all around the room. Vitals, operation statistics, diagnostics, all of it, from Peter’s suit filled the space with light. For a moment, it hit Tony that it had been almost six years since he had done this.

“Give it to me, FRI,” he said in his business tone as he paced around the lab, “Is there some sort of danger?”

“It doesn’t seem like Mr. Parker is in any immediate danger.” Okay. Problem 1 was out of the way.

“Well, the kid’s put on his suit for the first time in...” Tony thought about it, but the timeline of Peter’s recovery didn’t matter right now. “Whatever. Why does he have it on?”

“The most likely answer is because he is currently with Director Nick Fury.” Tony’s pacing came to a halt as he raised his eyebrows at the AI.

“I’m sorry. _What?_ ”

“Mr. Parker is currently with-”

“He’s with Fury. Got that. Why didn’t you lead with that?... Never mind. That’s not important.”

What business did Fury have with Peter? Just about every scenario ran through the man’s mind. Nothing was making sense. Tony studied the surrounding screens, noticing that they all looked normal. So what was wrong?

“Any reason why Neo’s in Venice?”

“From my understanding,” FRIDAY began, “Fury was in Venice tracking one of the abnormalities that he contacted you about. There are dozens of reports from different sources about an attack just hours ago at the Rialto Bridge and Santa Maria Formosa.”

“Right where the kid’s trip was scheduled to go. Is Fury bringing the trouble with him?”

“Fury only arrived after the attack.”

“So he didn’t want to deal with the problem until after the fact. Just leave the work to a child. Was that his plan?”

FRIDAY let Tony release some steam for a moment before she continued. “I have received a bit of audio from a recording from EDITH. Would you like to hear it?”

“No no.” He couldn’t risk Fury finding out about his eavesdropping. “What did Fury say?”

“It appears that Director Fury is informing Mr. Parker of the abnormalities. He’s saying that they’re dangerous, calling them Elementals.”

“Son of a...” Tony sighed, raking his hand through his graying hair. What good was leaving Tony alone to rest when his kid was getting harassed instead? He sat down in a swivel chair beside his workbench, connecting the dots in his brain.

Fury was in Italy with Peter. He was telling Peter about the Elementals. He wanted access to EDITH. As far as Tony was aware, he was recruiting a child into something outside of his understanding. He was recruiting Peter to be a soldier for Earth, and that thought disgusted Tony.

His blood began to boil and he kind of wanted to cry for some reason and he just wanted to talk to the kid. God, he _really_ wanted to talk to his kid. He needed to hear Peter’s voice and just listen and tell him that everything would be okay.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t talk to his kid.

Peter couldn’t know that Tony was alive...

...but at least Tony could have the assurance that Peter was alive.

The idea struck him and he barely noticed the way that he had raced to the screen displaying EDITH’s diagnostics. He was giddy, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet like a child. Tony examined the numbers as the beginning of a plan formulated in his mind.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, FRI, but we can hear any audio that EDITH picks up. Am I right?”

“That is correct.”

Good. Good, that was a start. As long as Peter wore the glasses, Tony could listen. It would all be one way, as he was restricted from speaking to him for obvious reasons, but it was a start.

Behind-the-scenes was never really Tony’s forte, but he could learn. He would do it for the kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop your socks and grab your crocs... We’re about to get wet on this ride!


	5. Don’t Stop Me Now

_**Stark’s Lakeside Cabin** _

_**June 11, 2024** _

It was late. Arguably too late for Tony to be at work in the lab, with recovering and being retired and all. However, the power of a man—Anthony Stark nonetheless—on his sixth cup of coffee and fueled by his sheer will alone was nothing to joke about. He had promised himself (but mostly Pepper) that he would stop pulling these late lab nights like he used to do so often. After all, it wasn’t easy raising a five-year-old on fifteen minutes of sleep. But when did he ever follow the rules when Peter was involved?

He was working away with codes and data streams. The lab itself was dark in contrast with the holograms that littered the room. His rock playlist replaced the night’s silence at the perfect volume—quiet enough so that his family could sleep but loud enough to meet his Freddie Mercury needs.

At least that’s what he thought until Pepper opened the glass door and the music died down. How she knew he was awake, he had no idea. Tony swore she had a sixth sense or something.

“You never went to bed,” she reckoned.

“You turned off my music.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Late enough for breakfast? I’m starving.” Pepper rolled her eyes good-naturedly. She entered the lab and stood by her husband’s side, arm around him and hand on his shoulder.

“What’s got you thinking,” she asked as she looked up at the many glowing screens.

“Just a little project of mine. Thought about it today, actually. Couldn’t get it out of my head.”

She nodded, looking a little closer at the information on the screens this time. Most of it was gibberish to Pepper, consisting of thousands of ones and zeros.

“What exactly _is_ this project of yours?” Tony looked up at her as he turned everything off, out of her view. “More upgrades for your arm?”

“Not this time.” Pepper’s eyes became skeptical.

“You know, last time you hid a project from me, you ended up inventing time travel. I don’t think it’s my fault for being a little worried.” She laughed, but her concern was still evident.

“First of all, I didn’t invent time travel. Design a machine to harness the ability to travel time, yes. Second, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“It is when you say it’s nothing for me to worry about and yet you still won’t tell me.”

He sighed as he worked something out in his head. He took his wife’s smaller hand in his rough one, fidgeting with the wedding ring on her finger. Pepper was his rock. This woman had been the only thing that kept him from drowning in stormy waters for so long.

“I can tell you,” Tony began in a low voice, as if there was anyone else to hear, “but you can’t tell anyone else about this. Not Morgan. Not even Fury. _Definitely_ not Fury.”

Pepper searched his eyes for... something. She wasn’t entirely sure what, until she found trust and loyalty and hope. Those were the qualities of the man that she loved. She nodded her head, looking back as a single screen suddenly reappeared.

On it, a small spider icon came into view.

“This is about Peter?”

“Yeah,” he breathed the confession. “Turns out the kid’s getting himself into trouble. Just like old times,” Tony whispered to himself. “He’s in Europe—supposed to be enjoying a much needed break. Turns out Fury got in the way of that.

“He told me about these... things. He’s calling them Elementals. Not sure what they are yet other than big and dangerous and destructive. There are reports everywhere just from today. One of them attacked Venice, Pep, and Pete was there. Turns out Fury’s desperate enough to rap the kid into the whole mess.”

“Oh, Tony,” his wife soothed, “I know you worry about Peter. I can’t imagine how much you wish you could see him.”

“But see, that’s where I started thinking.” He pointed up at the screen. “What if I could?”

“Tony...”

“Just hear me out. I can already listen to audio files from Karen and EDITH. But beyond that, his AI systems always listen. They give the kid feedback and talk to him and listen. They’re people.

“So,” he pursed his lips, looking for the right wording, “I’ll use a disguise. A pseudonym. I can talk to him from his suit, the glasses, his phone, anything that can hold an AI.”

Pepper watched him for a moment. She could see the way his mind was running a million miles per hour. She could almost feel the excitement radiating off of him, a feeling that she’d been missing for too long.

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re going to talk to Peter without him knowing it.”

“I’m going to give him a ‘new AI,’” Tony explained, making air quotes with his one hand. “Complete with my voice, my mannerisms, my wits, my charm. He won’t know that it’s the real me, but I’ll be able to talk to him. He needs my help, and I’ll be able to help him.”

_I need to keep my kid safe._

Pepper let out a breath, processing it all.

“Well, this isn’t the craziest stunt I’ve seen you pull.”

“Not by a long shot.”

“Fury wouldn’t have it.”

“Oh, he’d hit the roof big time.”

“And you’re sure this doesn’t get in the way of any legal issues? Or moral issues?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Tony looked up to see a holographic picture of the kid, smiling and just looking so carefree and so Peter.

“You’re a good one, Mr. Stark.” Pepper played with his hair, looking deep into his eyes. “You’re a good man and a wonderful father. Now I’m going to go start some breakfast. You take care of the kid.”

“Love you, Pep.”

“I love you too, hon.” With that, Pepper left the lab, leaving Tony to his project.


	6. Look For A New Angle

_**Stark’s Lakeside Cabin** _

_**June 12, 2024** _

Fun fact: There is a six-hour time difference between New York and the Czech Republic. Of course, Tony had this knowledge before hand. It just didn’t matter until his kid—the one who didn’t know he was alive—found himself heading there supposedly to fight some other Elemental. It mattered when the man couldn’t help but think about everything that could go wrong—every obstacle in his plan. He worried about Peter, and the distance between them certainly wasn’t helping.

It was official; Tony Stark’s sleep schedule was completely and utterly screwed.

He had been dozing off for hours... he thought. He had no idea how long it had been. He probably should have kept track of time.

“How long have we been down here, dear?”

“Almost twelve hours,” FRIDAY said.

“Which would mean...” Tony squinted as he thought. Maybe he should go to bed. Then again, the sun would be rising soon.

“It is 11:35 AM in Prague. Peter is currently in the Eastern Alps and will arrive at his destination in about four hours.”

“Okay,” Tony let out in a breath. The kid was fine. He was on the bus with his classmates miles from harm. Peter wasn’t going anywhere. There was no need for Tony to be a helicopter parent...

...especially when he wasn’t the kid’s father...

...especially when Peter didn’t know that he was alive.

Nonetheless, Tony watched the map as it tracked Peter’s location. He was glad that he decided to put a tracker in EDITH’s mainframe. The little red dot had been making its way through the European countryside for the past few hours. Steady. Constant. Peter was safe.

“Boss.” Tony hummed in response to the AI. “Peter has activated EDITH.”

Fear, excitement, and anxiousness flooded with barely a thought.

“What’s going on? Why was she activated?”

“It appears that he is only booting up the system.” He sighed in relief. “Would you like to access EDITH’s heads-up display?”

“How’s that observation system coming?” Tony rolled in his swivel chair to a much larger screen set up by the wall. He adjusted a small earpiece on his left side (it was more comfortable there) as the display loaded the live feed from EDITH.

“Up and running, Boss.”

“FRIDAY. It’s go time.”

Almost on cue, the screen lit up with Peter’s face. He seemed to be listening intently to EDITH’s rundown of her systems, as Tony noticed through the way the kid would squint and purse his lips. He even smiled a little as she spoke; Tony missed that smile more than he could ever say. He grinned to himself.

“There you are, kid,” he whispered.

“Booting up audio systems-”

Sound from Peter’s end filled the previously quiet lab: the bus driving, the chatter of the kid’s classmates, Peter’s voice. It had been months since Tony had heard that voice, at least not from a recording. He wondered if it was possible for it to sound more wonderful than it did back then on the battlefield.

His voice cut off though when he seemed to notice something on the glasses; the “AI notification,” Tony assumed.

“EDITH,” Tony heard him say. “What’s-”

The man held his breath.

“That is your specialized AI, designed just for you. Would you like me to transfer you to him?” There was a long silence as Peter thought. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Him? Uh... Yeah, sure.” He still looked dazed and a little lost, clearly thrown for a loop. Tony knew Peter though; he saw the way his eyes twinkled just a bit when he was curious; he saw the slight resemblance of a smile come to his face when he was about to get good news. He missed it all so much. Maybe now he could miss it just a little less.

“Peter,” EDITH announced, almost sounding cheerful, “allow me to introduce you to your new artificial intelligence.”

Tony turned on his mic. It was now or never. All or nothing.

“Hey, Pete.” It took about half a second for Peter’s entire demeanor to shift, eyes wide and full of... sadness or joy? Tony supposed it could be both. He hesitated before he whispered.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Actually, it’s TONY: Tactical Observation and Neutral Yield.” It wasn’t his finest acronym, not by a long shot. In his defense, he came up with the term in the middle of the night while creating a new AI, so he assumed he deserved some credit.

“I could show you the ropes,” Tony continued. “What do you say?” Peter nodded wordlessly, eyes still like saucers.

“Yeah, um... okay.”

“My main service is to protect you,” he said truthfully. He searched for his next words carefully. “Mr. Stark designed me to fill in in his absence. Think of me as a sort of super nanny. Or guardian angel, if you will.”

That earned a slight chuckle from the boy, but he still seemed stunned.

“No? Not good enough? What about that robot guy—Baymax. Big Hero 6? You’ve got to know that one.”

“I just-” Peter started, “I can’t believe it’s you. I mean, it’s not _you_ , but it’s your voice. It’s his voice.”

Well, Tony wasn’t ready for that. It reminded him too much of when he had first woken up from the coma; he could still hear Pepper’s cries of joy and Morgan’s excited little voice. _It’s really you! Daddy’s okay!_

He bit his lip, pushing his emotions down into the pit of his stomach where they belonged.

 _Be professional_ , he reminded himself, hating every bit of it. _He can’t suspect a thing._

“Mr. Stark had all of his characteristics developed into my programs for you. He hoped that I could be here when he couldn’t be. He did it all for you, Pete.” Peter’s eyes were shining and watery. The kid did his best to control his voice as he spoke.

“Is it true?”

“I’m not seeing what you’re getting at.”

“Did you really-” he stoped when Tony heard the squeak of the bus brakes. They must have been getting off somewhere, he noticed when the little red dot came to a pause on the map. “I-I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, Mr—uh, TONY. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you later, kid. Go have fun.”

And with one last smile, the feed was off. Tony stood alone in the silence of the lab, suddenly desperate for the boy’s presence. But he could talk to him. He could see him. At least he had something after five years of grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s all just take into account the fact that I know nothing about technology! Absolutely nothing! So... sorry to all the gamers who are cringing at any of the tech references I make.
> 
> How about, for the time being, we just assume that everything I say makes complete sense! Sound good? Sounds good to me! Glad we’re all in agreement. ;)


	7. Tell Those With Power, Safe In Their Tower

_**Prague, Czech Republic** _

_**June 12, 2024** _

Peter paced frantically around the hotel room—the _really nice_ hotel room with especially soft beds and large windows that overlooked the old, European city. It was a kind of luxury that was way out of his league. It all served as a constant reminder of what he had gotten himself into.

He laughed to himself. This was hilarious! He had worked so hard for so long to be an adult, and now he finally got what he wanted for so long—he was an Avenger (for real this time)—but he would probably never really be a kid ever again. He was never going to catch a break!

The minutes passed, and Peter paced in the darkness waiting for his cue. The hysteria seemed to be dying down, but it was only replaced with dread.

Why in the world was he doing this? Now there was no way out of this mess. He was on the other side of the world, supposedly enjoying a much-needed vacation, when he could be killed by some fire monster! What if this was his end? Nobody would even know it.

If only there was someone who could catch him when he fell.

That was when the memories came back, all tinted with tragedy. When Mr. Stark checked on him during the fight in Berlin. That time when Mr. Stark sent a suit to pull him out of the river. When Mr. Stark held him in his arms as he disappeared. When he saw Mr. Stark on the battlefield after he apparently brought him back from the dead.

Peter wished with everything in him that he could have Mr. Stark in that nice hotel room with him.

At least he could listen to his voice and pretend.

The thought pulled Peter back to the present. He didn’t have to be entirely alone, even if he was just talking to a pair of his dead mentor’s glasses.

“Hello, Peter. I didn’t think that I would hear from you so soon.”

“Hey EDITH. Sorry.” He laughed at himself a little when he realized that he was apologizing to an AI. Did manners apply to artificial intelligence? Did they have their own code of chivalry or something? Maybe he just had so many AIs at this point and he didn’t really see them as artificial-

“Did you need my assistance?”

“Oh! Yeah, right. Sorry.” _Pull it together, Parker._ “Can I talk to TONY, please?”

“Of course. Give me just a moment.”

“Hey, Pete.” TONY sounded cheerful but... winded? Could an AI sound winded? The other AIs had personalities and emotions, so Peter guessed it wasn’t too out there. “What do you need? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He doubted that his lie was convincing with the way his voice wobbled in anxiety. Not that it mattered anyway. It was just an AI.

“You don’t sound fine.”

_Shoot._

“I am, uh, TONY. I really am. I’m fine. I just... I got bored? Yeah. I got bored and needed someone to talk to and I’m kinda tired of the people in my class, you know, cause I’ve been on a bus with them all day and they’re just-”

“You’re rambling.”

“...Yeah. Am I?” TONY hummed in response.

“You ramble when you’re nervous.” The statement hung in the air for a moment as Peter wondered how TONY knew such personal details about him. Maybe Karen had told him. “What’s going on, kid?”

Peter opened his mouth to give some lame excuse, but ultimately, he was just talking to a robot. There was no shame in telling the truth. “I’m nervous. You’re right.”

“What are you nervous about?” TONY sounded nonchalant, just like Mr. Stark had been in times like this. (Little did Peter know that Mr. Stark _did_ know what he was so worked up about. Heck, he was scared out of his own mind.)

“I mean... I thought that I would be getting a break this time around, you know? Like, I was hoping I could just go on a vacation and have fun with my friends and not think about superhero stuff, but now Nick Fury needs my help and apparently he doesn’t take no for an answer-”

“Damn right.”

“-and he wants me to fight this fire... thing? Mr. Beck called them Elementals-”

“Mr. Beck?”

“Oh yeah, he’s this guy who’s helping Nick Fury. He’s pretty cool. And he’s from another universe! So that’s kind of awesome.”

TONY paused for a moment, processing the information. “Interesting.”

“Yeah, but now these Elementals from his universe are coming here and he said that they’re going to destroy the world if we don’t stop them. And now one of them is coming here and... and it’s the most dangerous one and it destroyed Mr. Beck’s world and, um, and... you know.”

“Okay,” TONY said, calm and patient. “It seems that Fury has already gotten in some contact with EDITH, so you should have support there. There’s nothing to worry about, kid. You’ll do great.”

“I’m just scared, TONY.”

(The admission was sudden and unexpected enough to startle Mr. Stark to silence. Damn this kid, always getting right to his heart.)

“I’m just scared that someone might get hurt. I can’t let that thing hurt my friends or Mr. Beck or anyone. And I don’t want to get hurt. I-I don’t want to get hurt without anyone being there.”

_I don’t want to be alone._

_I don’t want to die. Not again._

_I don’t wanna go._

“Alright, Pete. You gotta listen to me, understand? It’s my turn to ramble.”

“Mhm.” Peter nodded, not too confident in using his voice anymore.

“Good. First, it’s okay to be a little scared. That’s perfectly normal. Everyone gets scared from time to time. Second, everything’s going to be fine. You have EDITH, remember? You have Fury and this Mr. Beck character behind your back. And you’ve got me for assistance.”

_You’ll always have me._

“You have a team, Pete. You’re not alone. Don’t ever forget that, you hear me?”

“Yeah...” he said quietly.

“Why do I feel like there’s a _but_ coming on? I thought I gave a pretty decent pep talk.”

There was a long pause before Peter asked, “Did he get scared? Mr. Stark, I mean.”

“Yes,” TONY stated simply, “Everyone does. I told you.”

“Yeah, but like, did he ever get, like, _scared_ scared?”

(Mr. Stark would have laughed at Peter’s efficient use of the word “scared” if it weren’t for the circumstances.)

“Out of his mind,” he decided to say. It was true, too. There were the nightmares and the panic attacks and the insomnia, but that wasn’t the point. That’s not what the kid needed to hear right now. He needed the important part. “But he always stood up to the fight. You wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“He always knew that someone had his back. Maybe it was Pepper or the Avengers. Hell, sometimes it was you, kid.”

Warmth bloomed in Peter’s chest. He realized then that the feeling was almost foreign to him.

“The point is, there’s always someone looking out for you. There’s always a reason to face the fear in the eye. That’s courage, Pete.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Know so.”

Peter thought. “Thanks, TONY. You’re pretty good at this.”

“No reason to thank me, kid. It’s my job.”

“Yeah, but still. You’re just easy to talk to. Guess you learned from the best,” he said with a smile in his voice.

“I supposed I did.” (If only Peter understood the implications of his words.) “Just... have courage, Pete. Take your fear and use it against the bigger guy. Seize the day or whatever. I know you can do this.”

“...Was that a Newsies reference?”

“Don’t think about it too hard, kid. We have more important things at hand.”

“Okay,” Peter said, smiling, “I can do this.”

“I know you can. You’re strong. I believe in you.” TONY’s voice was sweet and full of fondness. It was so similar to how Peter remembered Mr. Stark’s, but it was also different. “Now go save the world.”

Peter laughed, the sound being more genuine than it was a few short minutes ago. “Okay.”

“And remember,” TONY started, and Peter could almost hear the mischievous grin in the AI’s voice, “the world is your oyster.”

“Bye, TONY.”

“Bye, Spider-ling.”

The AI was disconnected, and Peter was left with the really nice hotel room, too-tall windows, and beautiful gothic city. He was there for a reason. He had a purpose. He looked down at his white dress shirt, looked to the city, aglow with life, and turned on his earpiece.

He was a hero—an Avenger. Peter was going to save the world. And if he couldn’t do that, he was sure he was going to avenge it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I have some Broadway fans with me!


	8. But We’re Talking Kings And Successions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y’all have watched Far From Home! If not... well this is gonna be awkward... :/
> 
> Anyways, those of us who have seen the movie know the scene well, so here it is. Sorry if it doesn’t feel original enough, but I tried. :1

_**Prague, Czech Republic** _

_**June 12, 2024** _

Tony was right. Of course he was. He always was, Peter thought. Everything was fine. The fight was over, and he was fine. Everyone was fine.

He was more than fine, actually. He had just saved the world from the fire Elemental with a magical soldier from another universe! That was honestly one of the coolest things he had ever done!

But as _freaking awesome_ as it was, he couldn’t seem to get his mind to stop racing.

“Mr. Stark gave me a chance to be more,” Peter explained, absentmindedly stirring the bendy straw in his glass of lemonade. “He wanted me to be better than him, and Fury just wants me to live up to that-”

“What do you want, Peter?”

He looked up to meet Mr. Beck’s careful gaze in a rush. “What do you mean?”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t... know,” he laughed anxiously and shrugged.

“What do you want? You, Peter Parker. Now. I know you’re thinking about it-”

“I wanna go on my trip, right? I wanna go back on my trip with my friends, and go to the top of the Eiffel Tower with the girl who I really like and tell her how I feel and...” he paused, gesturing as if it would get his point across, “give her a kiss.”

“Oh,” Beck drew out, smirking.

“Shut up, man.”

“You’re not going to do that, are ya?”

“No. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have too much of a responsibility.” It was the truth, but the truth sucked sometimes, didn’t it? Peter knew that the best out of most people.

“Mister?” A woman, who Peter assumed was an employee, approached with a pair of expressive glasses held out to him. “Bonte bon primera.”

“Oh my god,” Peter said as he took the glasses and thanked the woman. “Thank you so much.”

Beck took a good look at the accessory in Peter’s hand. “What are those? Are those the-”

“EDITH glasses, yeah.”

“They were just on the floor?”

There was a pause. A long pause. _Ah, yes. Leave Iron Man’s glasses on the floor to be stepped on! Nice move, Parker._

“Try them on. Let’s see how they look on you.”

“Yeah?” _Really? After he just left them on the freaking floor?_

“Yeah.” Peter hesitated with the glasses in his hands. He put them on as though they mights fall apart if he handled them without enough care. Looking to Mr. Beck, he saw that the man’s face had fallen slightly as he tried to hide his gaping.

“I actually really like them.”

“Can I be completely honest with you?”

“Please,” he prompted.

Beck shook is head, looking straight into Peter’s eyes. “They look really stupid.”

“Oh.”

“But maybe have a contact lens version of them,” he said, shrugging with a smile. Peter tried to offer a laugh, but something about the comment just hurt him in a way that he wasn’t expecting.

The glasses _must_ look stupid on him, really. They _felt_ stupid on him, like they were too big for a child. They were meant for someone so much bigger than him in every sense of the words. Maybe Mr. Beck’s words just confirmed a truth that Peter already knew; he wasn’t cut out for this.

“You try them on.”

Beck laughed at the glasses that Peter was now holding out in his direction. “No, come on-”

“Try em on.”

“I don’t wanna. I don’t wanna try them on-”

“Just put them on,” Peter urged.

Beck stared in disbelief for a moment before chuckling and taking the glasses from Peter’s hand. He put them on, like it was the easiest thing he had ever done. It was like second nature, Peter thought.

When the man looked up at Peter, eyebrows raised, a smirk on his face, and Peter’s late mentor’s glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose, there was no denying the familiarity. All of a sudden, the magical soldier from another universe looked too much like a certain billionaire hero.

“What do you think?” The words were underwater, lost in Peter’s rapid fire thoughts.

He looked back to his lemonade and sighed. His ideas began to come together like a puzzle—one of those slide puzzles that Peter used to play with, where he had to shift around the pieces too many times before he got the full picture.

“For the next Tony Stark, I trust you,” Peter mumbled in a rush. His voice was clearer as he spoke again. “For the next Tony Stark, I trust you.”

“What?”

“Mr. Stark left me a message with those glasses; ‘For the next Tony Stark, _I trust you._ ’”

Beck leaned forward in his seat. “I’m still not following. How many of those lemonades have you had?”

“He knew every mistake that I ever made, okay? So he must have known that I was not ready for something like this.”

“Why would he give it to you?”

“Because maybe he didn’t trust me to have EDITH.” Peter was surprised to find that his words actually kind of hurt when they were said out loud. But it was the truth. The truth hurts. “He just trusted me to pick who should.”

The man in front of him made a look of baffled confusion.

Peter continued, “It makes so much more sense. He always knew I would do what’s right and he’s not going to give them to Fury, cause Fury would just give himself EDITH.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right about that.”

“Right, so the world needs the next Iron Man...” He looked down, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. _What a hero_. “...and it’s not going to be me! I mean, I’m a sixteen-year-old kid from Queens. It needs to be an adult with some experience, and that’s good like Tony Stark—like you.”

The air hung heavy when Peter finished his rant. Straightening and looking directly at Peter, Beck shook his head. “No. Peter, come on.” He took off the glasses, holding them in a solid grip. “No.”

Peter had made his decision, though. He took the glasses back and put them back on his face. “EDITH?”

“Hello, Peter,” the AI answered sweetly.

“Hi. Yeah, um...” He looked up to the other man’s eyes as he finished, “I’d like to transfer your control over to Quentin Beck?”

“Peter, what are you doing,” Beck questioned.

“I’m... doing the right thing.”

EDITH’s voice came out small, sounding as if she understood the rising tension. “Any transfer will require conformation.”

“Stark gave _you_ the glasses-”

“Stark gave me a _choice_. It’s _my_ choice to make, okay? And I’m gonna make it. Look, you’re a soldier—a leader. You stopped the Elementals. You saved my life. You saved the world!... Okay? He’d want you to have them.”

“Waiting for conformation.”

“Conform,” Peter said simply, satisfied. In a moment of silence, he handed the glasses over to Mr. Beck. _This was the right decision_ , Peter told himself. _This is what he would have wanted_. “Welcome to the Avengers.”

As Beck put the glasses on, Peter made an attempt to wipe away the image of his mentor.

“They look good on you.”

The two shook hands and Beck smiled. “Thank you. It’s an honor.”

“Yeah...” Getting up to leave and slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Peter paused. “Mr. Stark would have really liked you.”

“Where you headed?”

He thought, making up his mind with a hopeful determination on his face. “I’m gonna go find MJ.”

“Good luck, kid. I’ll give you about a 50/50 chance,” Beck joked. “You’re pretty awkward, so...”

“Yeah,” Peter laughed genuinely. “See you later, man.” With that, he walked out of the bar, a smile on his face.

TONY was right.

Everything was fine.

Sometimes, the truth hurts. Sometimes, you’ve got to let go.

xXx

The interior of the bar crawled into a blue light before disappearing. A select few looked up to one man, waiting with bated breath. At the center of it all, the ringleader sat, hands up as if waiting for the praise of those beneath him.

The illusion dropped. Beck waited, quiet as a maniacal grin spreads across his face.

He shrugged. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” He laughed with the eruption of cheers and applause. If the truth hurt, then it served no purpose at all. “Somebody get this stupid costume off me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* whAT?! Mysterio’s the bad guy?! How could it be??...
> 
> Well I went for drama... A girl can try, right?
> 
> Btw, I know I have some foreign language dialogue in there that’s probably super inaccurate. I tried finding a good translation, and what I used was the best I could find... I still don’t think it’s even remotely close to accurate though so... yikes.
> 
> If anyone by any chance speaks Czech or has a better translation from the movie, I would love if you would let me know!


	9. Welcome To The Club

_**Stark’s Lakeside Cabin** _

_**June 13, 2024** _

With the door unlocked, Morgan ran into the house, headed toward her room upstairs. Happy dropped the keys on the table and shut the door behind him. His time taking the kid out to lunch ( _babysitting_ , he clarified to Pepper, who refused to use the term for his sake) was cut short when Morgan spilled her strawberry milkshake down her shirt.

“Do you need help finding something else to wear?”

“Nope,” she said, popping the “p” at the end. “I’m gonna wear my pink sweater! Daddy likes that one.”

Despite how pleased she sounded with her statement, Happy’s shoulders tensed and his eyes suddenly became much more stern than before. Apparently, the gesture went right over Morgan’s head as she ran off to her room.

He got to his feet, shaking his head. A childish part of him made him wished that he could be as okay as Morgan seemed to be with everything. Maybe she just couldn’t understand. Maybe she wasn’t able to understand loss and grief quite yet. It was a good thing, Happy thought. He didn’t need any more broken things.

Morgan was taking her precious time, so Happy decided to take a walk. He wasn’t really sure where to, but his feet seemed to have it covered. Before he knew it, he was headed downstairs towards the lab.

He had only been there once after... everything. (He was going to need a different name for it pretty soon.) He went during the day of the funeral, partially to get some things that were left behind, partially to hide away from the others for just a moment to say goodbye. He had no idea if he would ever be able to go back there again.

Turns out, he got the answer to his question as he neared the lab door. _Why was he here, again? Maybe just to escape. Get lost in a better time, just for a moment._

“Hello, Happy. It is nice to see you again.” The voice surprised him at first, but then he let himself relax. Just for a moment.

“Hey, FRIDAY.”

“Are you in need of assistance?”

“No, no,” he responded as he shook his head. Not that the AI could see his actions... or could she? Happy really needed a Tony technology refresher course. “Just taking a look around.”

“Of course, sir. Call me if you need anything.”

“You know what...” Happy wasn’t sure where he was going with this until he let himself finish the sentence. “Is the lab unlocked?”

“Yes. There was no need to lock the entrance, seeing how no visitors were expected today.”

_No visitors were expected_ ever, Happy’s mind supplied. As much as it hurt, he took it as his invitation inside.

“Okay. Thanks, FRIDAY.”

“Anytime.”

Just a few feet away, he gazed at the floor to ceiling glass door. For some reason, it looked as if it were towering, high above Happy and intimidating. It was a ridiculous thought. It was just a lab. Tony had been gone for eight months, it was just a lab, and Happy was the head of security.

Nothing to be afraid of.

He opened the door when he reached it, strolling into the room to find something to do or get it over with or... something. He knew that there were sounds going on, but he didn’t give it much thought, as it was a normality in the Stark home. In the back of his mind, Happy realized that the lights were on. He also recognized the strong smell of coffee, which had likely filled the lab with the rest of the house that morning when Pepper woke up.

Happy also saw the other person in the lab with him. Subconsciously, he was sure that was normal, so he didn’t give in a second thought... until something deep inside told him that it was very, _very_ wrong.

He turned on his heals, adrenaline pumping in his ears and blocking out the noise that he was just registering. _There was an intruder. The cabin was broken into. Pepper and Morgan were in danger._ In a blind panic, Happy grabbed the nearest tool, a wrench, from the workbench and prepared for an attack.

The other person made no move. They sat, still as could be, as if there was nowhere else to go. Then, slowly, quietly, and maybe even anxiously, the person spoke.

“Happy?”

And Happy knew that voice. It didn’t make any sense, but he knew that he knew that voice. That was it. He must have gone off the edge. He thought he had been handling everything pretty well, but he allowed himself this moment.

“Boss?”

“How- what the hell are you doing here?”

“Tony?”

“I... can’t suppose you’d fall for the life model decoy trick. Am I reading that right?”

Happy’s heart was pounding. He swore that if his heart rate rose any higher, FRIDAY would have a dangerous vitals warning. He used all of his willpower to keep the water in his eyes from spilling. How embarrassing would it be if his dead friend saw him crying like a baby?

“Come on. I’m gonna need some sort of response here, cause I’m at a complete loss.”

“You’re at a loss?” Happy laughed while dropping the wrench in his hand to the floor. “How are you... what? This doesn’t... it’s not-”

“I can explain if you just give me a second-”

“You’re alive.”

“Outstanding conclusion,” Tony joked.

“How?... But everyone thinks-”

“-that I’m dead, yeah. Not an ideal situation. More ideal than me being actually dead, I guess.”

Happy staggered toward Tony, a little more clumsy than Stark Industries’s head of security should be. He took in every detail of his friend’s face as if it was the first time seeing him. Maybe it was, in a way. He looked at the scars that were left on his cheek, the slight redness of his eye, the damage that had been done to his ear.

His hands went to Tony’s shoulders, and he couldn’t help but frown when his mind caught up with his eyes, noticing that his right arm was completely missing. His reaction must have been a little too telling, because Tony just looked into his eyes with a smirk.

“It’s a bummer it wasn’t the left one,” Tony joked, but Happy noticed the way that his voice got thicker. “That old thing hasn’t been good for a long time.”

Happy was at a loss for words, so like always, Tony supplied them.

“I’m getting used to it. Already have a new prosthetic in the making. It’ll be... what,” he asked rhetorically, “the seventh one?”

“Eighth, sir.”

“That’s right. Thanks, Fri.”

“Always a pleasure.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Happy’s sudden question surprised Tony, but he recovered quickly.

“Hap, come on-”

“Who else knows?”

“Nobody knows-”

“Nobody else knows?!”

“Well, Pepper and Morgan... and Nick Fury, so it’s not nobody per say-”

“Nick Fury?”

“And Doctor Strange. Technically, that’s a whole crowd of people!”

“The wizard knew, and I _didn’t?_ ” His eyes went wide. “What world am I living in?”

“The wizard _had_ to know. He saved my life.”

“Tony,” Happy began with caution, “what’s going on? Why does no one know? How are you even alive? Why- what does, how-”

“Alright, slow down,” Tony demanded. “If I’m going to have to tell you my grand tale, can we at least do it on the couch? Maybe with a coffee?”

xXx

Frankly, the grand tale wasn’t all that long. Happy was all caught up in the span of about ten minutes. Of course, there hadn’t been much going on in Tony’s life for the past eight months, so his story ended up being short and not-so-sweet.

Happy had questions. A lot of them. Most of them had to do with Nick Fury and Tony’s house arrest, but he never shied away from asking about what he had been doing all this time and how his recovery was going and what he was planning to do with his arm and everything in between. Tony loved Happy, but he was starting to brink on exhaustion after a while.

“What were you working on? When I came into the lab?”

Tony blinked in an attempt to get rid of the fog in his brain. “...secret project.”

“Oh, come on.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t I get to know now? Aren’t I in a secret club or something? The ‘I Know that Tony Stark is Actually Alive Club,’ maybe? Doesn’t that mean that I can be in on all secret projects?”

Tony could trust Happy with his life. He could tell him a little, potentially world-shattering secret.

So at the expense of another twenty minutes, he did. There were officially seven people in Happy’s club and two in the newly formed “I Know that the Very Alive Tony Stark has been Talking to Peter Parker as an AI Club.” Maybe it wasn’t a perfect track record, but that was nothing new for Tony. He would have it no other way.


	10. Knight Takes Rook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort and not so sweet...

_**Prague, Czech Republic** _

_**June 13, 2024** _

Peter held the projector while studying its nuts and bolts.

This couldn’t be happening. How could things have possibly gotten worse for him?

Mr. Beck, a man Peter had trusted with his life, had also created the Elementals with Stark technology. Not only that, but now he had access to EDITH and her defense systems.

This was Peter’s fault. What choice did he have but to stop Mysterio?

It was time to get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Now Peter knows Mysterio’s the villain? Whaaat??
> 
> Also, if any of you have any fic ideas that I might be able to use in the future (I would prefer one-shot, but multi chapter works too), please leave a comment! I would love to add more hurt/comfort to everyone’s lives! :D


	11. Caught In A Landslide

_**Berlin, Germany** _

_**June 13, 2024** _

Peter was beyond relieved that he brought an earpiece with him. There was no other way to connect himself to his AIs from his stealth suit. And right now, he needed all the help he could get.

“Karen?”

“It is just an illusion, Peter. Don’t worry. Focus.”

He did his best, he really did. A simple _don’t worry_ wasn’t much help though when a nightmare literally played before his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Focus.”

“Fury always had to die,” Peter heard a voice say from far away, “but not you.”

“Stop hiding, Beck!”

“I tried to help you walk away, but now you’re making me do this.”

His surroundings went black in an instant. Peter looked down at his hands, and despite the darkness, the red of his Spider-Man suit was as clear as day. Fluorescent lights dropped from the ceiling to reveal a green mist appearing like an aura around the approaching Mysterio.

“You told me you were just a kid.” Peter fired his web shooters, but only more fog came out. “You told me,” Beck spat out, “you wanted to run after that girl.”

Another voice echoed through the darkness. Peter knew who it was and ran, finding himself crashing through a door and at the top of the Eiffel Tower. The stars twinkled, and the moon shone brightly, revealing the girl he was searching for.

“Peter? What’s going on?” MJ stared down to the bottom of the tower, speaking with so much fear and uncertainty in her voice. It didn’t even sound like her.

“I know this isn’t real!”

“Do you though?” The full moon morphed into Mysterio’s helmet, and Beck grabbed MJ by the throat.

“This isn’t real, Peter. It is an illusion.” Peter wished he could believe Karen. All things rational were thrown off of the ledge of the Eiffel Tower though if MJ could be in danger. He couldn’t take any more chances. So he ran. He reached out a hand, desperate to catch her, but Beck was faster. He dropped MJ, letting her fall until her screams were consumed by the darkness below.

Peter jumped after her. He couldn’t lose anyone else. _Never again._

He knew he should have expected it when he hit the hard, cold floor too quickly, MJ nowhere to be seen. He stumbled to get up on shaky legs as he held his head in his hand. This wasn’t real. _This wasn’t real._

“I don’t think you know what’s real, Peter,” Beck said mockingly, his words echoing all around.

It was eerily silent for a moment, and Peter braced himself for anything. Suddenly, he was flying back, as if being pulled by an enormous magnet, until he stopped all at once with his head spinning. When he looked up, he saw that he was in the middle of Queens. Wait, wasn’t he in Germany? No. Paris?

Before he could find his answer, he was being thrown through a glass wall.

The glass shattered. Time slowed down. Gravity pulled down on Peter and soon enough, he was once again falling down, down, down.

“You need to wake up!”

He landed abruptly, smashing on top of a car outside of the warehouse. There was no more darkness, green smoke, or booming voices—just an old building and a wrecked car. Maybe it was finally over. Peter hoped to himself that it was as pain bloomed in chest and ribs.

Still, he looked around everywhere. Beck must have been somewhere, just lurking around the corner.

“Karen? Karen!”

“Yes, Peter?”

“Where is he? Where’s Beck?” He sounded incredibly panicked and a little ridiculous, but that wasn’t of major concern for the time being.

“I cannot locate any heat signatures.”

The sound of glass shattering above him got his full attention. Drones flew towards Peter like projectile missiles as the world once again faded to black. Shards of glass taller than Peter came raining down, and he was sent back full force into the living nightmare.

Peter was surrounded on all sides. He was staring back at his reflection in the glass, waiting for the treat to arise. All he could see was himself.

“I mean, look at yourself,” the familiar voice said. This time though, there was no yelling, no anger to his words. Just disappointment. Peter reached out to the mirror image, and when he touched the glass before him, his reflection grabbed on tight with an iron grip. Dozens of other Peters came swarming in, beating him and overwhelming him. “You are just a scared little kid, in a seat suit!”

The clones were gone. It was just Peter in his homemade suit. The mist was back, and Peter realized that he stood surrounded by fallen stone statues. They towered above him despite them being tumbled over, reminding him of ancient ruins with statues of gods.

Then he saw their faces. Peter studied them, recognizing the familiar likenesses of Captain America, Black Widow, and Iron Man.

“I created Mysterio to give the world someone to believe in! I control the truth! Mysterio is the truth!”

Scaling high above the fallen statues, a great, stone carving of Mysterio loomed. Peter was so caught up in it all that he barely noticed when Beck landed right next to him, firing an emerald blast in his direction.

Peter dodged the blast just in time, leaping from here to there, back and forth while Mysterio kept up the attacks. He shot his webs, aiming straight at the man floating above him. Peter pulled hard, bringing a crane down right through the illusion.

He leapt and flipped frantically while Mysterio never let up on the assault. With one last fire, Beck brought down a large stone arm from one of the statues, ready to crush his opponent. Peter braced for impact, screaming as the thing collapsed on top of him.

Then there was silence and stillness. The stone was gone, disappeared into nothingness. The statues were no more. Peter took a hesitant glance up at his new environment, hoping soon that this whole dream would end.

There was no luck for him, and what Peter saw crushed him with a weight heavier than that of stone.

He found himself in a void, seeing nothing but a few small, forgotten gravestones littered across the expanse. The most important one, though, was conveniently right in front of him.

_ANTHONY_

_EDWARD_

_STARK_

“If you were good enough, maybe Tony would still be alive.”

Peter felt sick. He honestly probably would have cried there on the spot if he were given time—if he didn’t have a murderer coming after him. He knew Beck was right. All he could think about for months after Tony’s death was his guilt. Peter wasn’t a hero. He let Tony die. Iron Man was dead because he wasn’t good enough to save everyone. It was about time the rest of the world understood that.

Maybe finally, eight months after losing his mentor, Peter felt numb.

Beck didn’t let him relish in it all, though. A rusty gauntlet burst out of the ground and reached for Peter. The rest of the suit emerged, looking battered and broken. To Peter’s horror, half of the face piece was destroyed, revealing a hollow skeleton— _his_ hollow skeleton. The thing—for lack of a better term—came crawling towards Peter, not slowly like in the zombie movies, but with incredible, terrifying speed.

Peter backed away as fast as he could. He really wished he could look away, but the thing was gaining on him, suddenly firing its repulsers to gain some ground. Its one eye from the half of the helmet still in tact flickered with an icy blue light.

Peter was running. When did he start running? It didn’t matter. He had to get away! He was going to be stuck here forever!

“Deep down, you know I’m right,” Beck bellowed from beyond. Peter slammed into a glass wall, falling from impact into the pure white snow beneath him. Towers shot up from below with a low, loud rumble and formed a miniature skyline of New York City.

“You made your choice, and all you had to do was step aside. And now... you ha-”

The sudden boom rang in Peter’s ears. New York was gone in the blink of an eye. Beck, now wearing a motion capture suit, dropped to his knees. He collapsed, and Peter looked up to see Nick Fury with his gun held high.

A dozen black cars raced to surround the scene, and heavily armed agents hurried to secure Beck where he lied on the asphalt.

“Fury!”

“Beck’s people,” Fury began, breathing heavily as he limped towards Peter, “are trying to find everyone who could expose him. Who’d you tell?”

“Um-”

“I know you told someone, so just tell me.”

Peter brought his hands up to his head, remembering when he couldn’t rake his hands through his hair that he had his mask on. Maybe the mask was what was suddenly making it really hard to breathe.

“Who did you tell?”

“Um...” Yup, he was freaking out. “Okay, um-”

Fury was yelling now, and it was so unfamiliar that Peter broke. “Who else did you tell?”

“Uh, okay! Just Ned and MJ from my class! Maybe Ned told his girlfriend, Betty, but that’s it!”

Fury chuckled, looking down to conceal his smirk. Peter knew it. He screwed up. He should never have told anyone, and Fury was sure to be pissed at him now. But why was he still laughing?

“What?”

“You,” the man started, crossing his arms and looking into Peter’s eyes coldly, “are so gullible.”

“...what?”

“Oh, you’re smart as a whip, just a sucker.” Fury’s voice shifted on the last word. A drone over his shoulder dropped the illusion, and Beck was suddenly standing in front of Peter. “And now all your friends have to die.”

Like a reoccurring dream—like a flashback—the world around Peter transformed into black before everything came literally and figuratively crashing down. The fluorescent lights, the Eiffel Tower, the ten-foot glass shards, the statues of stone, everything came raining on top of him.

All the while, Beck stalked toward him with his drones advancing. “It’s easy to fool people when you’re already fooling yourself. But for what it’s forth, Peter,” he smiled, “I really am sorry.”

The solid ground changed to pebbles beneath Peter’s feet. He subconsciously felt his heel jump into an iron track, but he didn’t think of it while trying not to be crushed by the Eiffel Tower. The change of setting only settled in when the violent noise came to a halt.

Peter’s heart sunk to his stomach.

He turned his head in an instant at the sound of a train horn.

Even with his enhanced senses, he felt the train hit him full force before he could register what happened. All Peter felt was pain, and everything fazed out into nothing.

“EDITH.”

“Yes, Quentin.”

“Access files to Peter Parker’s class trip. I need them to fly home from London.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What if we all just pretended that I wrote the illusion scene in Far From Home? I mean, I wouldn’t want to take the credit from whoever pulled off that masterpiece (seriously, that scene BLEW ME AWAY)... but still.
> 
> Anyways, it’s already August... Not sure if I should celebrate or panic. Maybe a bit of both? That seems like a good summary of the year so far idk.


	12. A Leap Of Faith

_**Berlin, Germany** _

_**June 13, 2024** _

His surroundings were black, but not like they had been in Mysterio’s illusions. It was real. Very, very real, and Peter wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. Beck was nowhere to be seen, MJ wasn’t falling off the Eiffel Tower, and Mr. Stark was no longer crawling out of his grave. For that, Peter was grateful.

He couldn’t ignore the pain in his ribs anymore, though. A couple of them were broken, for sure. There was a sharp pain in his side and his chest was starting to ache dully. Peter hoped it had to do with the shot from Beck’s drones and not anything hidden beneath the surface. Unfortunately, the likelihood of that was decreasing with the memory of every fall and crash and punch and blast.

Peter clung to the side of the train. He hung on with everything he had left as it sped through the tunnel. Lights flashed quickly and painfully, causing his dull headache to explode into something more like a migraine. He knew he was going somewhere, but his mind seemed to be back on the track in front of Beck while his body was hanging off the side of a train.

He found himself inside one of the cars. Peter had no memory of how he got there. All that mattered was that he sat down and maybe got some sleep.

Distantly, he thought about how he should probably check his injuries; he could have some bones that needed to be set or blood flows that needed to be stemmed.

But he was collapsing into one of the seats before he knew it, taking in a deep and labored breath and clinging to his side. It was really starting to hurt now. Peter took in another careful breath, but cringed at the way he coughed something up instead. The pain in his head sunk down deep into his stomach, causing a wave of nausea.

He was so dizzy, tired, and hurt.

This sucked. There was no way around that.

“Peter? Are you alright?” Peter flinched at the sound of Karen’s voice. He honestly forgot she was there in his earpiece.

“Um...” was all he could think to say.

“I cannot view your vitals without the suit, but given the sound of your voice and breathing, as well as your given track record,” she managed to say, sounding both amused and worried, “I believe you may require some assistance.”

“I’m fine, Karen.” He coughed weakly, his voice betraying his words.

“You need help.” She sounded impossibly gentle, and Peter couldn’t help but listen. “I am putting you on the line of your protection intelligence.”

The words honestly didn’t register. There was too much to focus on, and Peter thought if this went on much longer, he might go into sensory overload. Just what he needed.

“Pete? Hey, are you okay?”

“...wha?”

“Kid, listen to me. What’s going on?”

Peter was slow when he spoke. “Mr. Stark?”

“It’s TONY. I’m here. Tell me what’s going on.” TONY. Right. His earpiece. Peter put TONY into his earpiece, just in case. That was a good thing. It was good.

“I, um...” he started, thinking. What was he supposed to say? Where did he start? “I messed up.”

“Okay. We can work with that later. Are you in any danger right at this moment? I can’t see your HUD or your vitals without the suit.”

“I think my ribs are broken. My head hurts. And, uh-” he was cut off with another cough. “Breathing hurts.”

“Okay. Do you know where you are?”

“Mmm...” he thought, “I’m on a train.”

“You’re on a train?”

“Mhm.”

“FRIDAY,” he shouted, sounding a little further away. “FRIDAY’s going to track your location. It looks like you’re using your comms?”

“...yeah.”

“I’m going to track that, okay? Stay awake for me, kid.”

Peter hummed in response. It was just so dark in the train car. The sound of the vehicle moving was low, constant, and rhythmic. His head was hurting less, so that was nice. A fog replaced the pain, but it wasn’t the green, eerie fog from Mysterio’s illusions. It was calming. It was kinda warm. He could just rest there for a few minutes.

Sleep sounded good. Peter would wake up and feel so much better. With his eyes already shut, he fell asleep to the sound of his mentor’s frantic voice.

xXx

Peter jolted awake. The sun was bright. He looked down to see that he was wearing a bright orange jersey like a blanket. He looked to his side, noticing that he wasn’t alone... wherever he was. Both men were covered in orange, similar to him, apparently. One, Peter noticed, had a funny hat on his head while the other was covered in face paint.

Fedora guy smiled at him. “Ay!”

“...where am I?”

“Municipal holding facility.” _Thanks, face paint guy._

“They said they found you on grudges at the train yard,” Fedora guy smiled again, seemingly impressed. “Very dangerous.”

“We gave you the shirt because you seemed a bit cold,” a third man to Peter’s right said, startling him.

“Thanks... you guys are nice.” They all smiled at him genuinely. It was all so different from back home. “You speak really good English.”

“Welcome to the Netherlands.”

Peter stared, dumbfounded. “I’m in the Netherlands right now?”

xXx

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” Peter waited nervously. When the other line was finally picked up, he was elated. “Hey! Hey, uh... I messed up. I need a- I need a ride.”

He listened for a minute before continuing. “Where am I? Uh...” Peter turned to this really nice farmer man who offered him his phone. “Where am I, sir?”

“It’s Broek op Langedijk,” he responded with a kind smile.

Peter stared. “Hang on.” He brought the phone up to the nice man. “Can you say that again, please?”

The man spoke into the phone this time. “Uh, hi. It’s Broek op Langedijk... yeah, no problem.”

Peter thanked him, putting the phone back to his ear. “Did you get that?”

xXx

“Okay. Hold still. There we go,” Happy said, quietly and not unkindly.

“Ouch.”

He pulled carefully on the stitches that he was giving Peter. As gentle as Happy was being, Peter still cringed whenever the needle was pulled through. He always hated needles. He tried to focus on literally anything else, but that was a little hard to do when all he could think about was how badly he messed up.

“I thought you had super strength.”

“Still hurts.” With the next poke of the needle, Peter sucked in a deep breath and brought a hand up through his curls. “Happy-”

“Alright. Relax.” He pulled again on the thread as if it were his craft (after being friends with Tony Stark for so many years, maybe it was). “Just a few more... There we go-”

“Oh my god. Happy!” Peter hit the table and hurried to get up from his seat at the table.

“Relax-”

“Don’t tell me to relax, Happy! How could I relax when I messed up so badly?” His eyes were becoming red-rimmed. Happy removed his glasses to give Peter his full attention. “I trusted Beck, right? I thought he was my friend, so I gave him the only thing that Mr. Stark left behind for me, and now he’s going to kill my friends and half of Europe, so please,” he cried, “do not tell me to relax!”

When his rant was over, Peter sat in a seat across from Happy, head in his hand. He sniffed while he collected his thoughts.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t shout.” He sat up, took a deep breath, and admitted, “I just really miss him.”

“Yeah, I miss him, too.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, Happy considered. That wasn’t the point, though. Not right now.

Peter shook his head and looked down into his lap. It was something he usually did when he was feeling sad or guilty, Happy learned. “Everywhere I go, I see his face. And... the whole world is asking who’s going to be the next Iron Man-” Peter’s voice hitched, and he cried. “I don’t know if that’s me, Happy. I’m not Iron Man.”

“You’re not Iron Man. And you’re never going to be Iron Man. Nobody can live up to Tony.” Peter looked down again. “Not even Tony. Tony,” he hesitated, “was my best friend, and he was a mess.”

Peter looked into Happy’s eyes, shocked.

“He second guessed everything he did. He was all over the place.” Happy looked at Peter carefully, working to get his point across. He smiled to him warmly. “The one thing he did that he didn’t second guess was picking you. And I don’t think Tony would have done what he did if he didn’t know that you were going to be here after he was gone. Your friends are in trouble. You’re all alone. Your tech is missing. What are you going to do about it?”

Peter blinked. Sniffing the last of his tears away, he stood with a newfound confidence and said, “I’m gonna kick his ass.”

“I...I-I mean, like, right now. Like, specifically, what are we going to do? Cause we’ve been hovering over a tulip field for the last fifteen minutes.”

“Right. Um... I can’t call my friends, cause he’s tracking my phone. Give me your phone.”

“My cell phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Here.” Happy handed him the phone, and Peter walked to turn it on.

“What’s your password?”

“Password.”

“No, what is your password?”

“Password, the word. Spelled out. Password.”

“You’re the head of security, and your password is ‘password?’”

“I don’t- I don’t feel good about it either.”

xXx

_Happy Hogan: Hey. I think you should talk to the kid._

_Happy Hogan: He’s fine. I picked him up in one piece, but I think he needs to hear from you._

_Tony Stark: sure_

_Tony Stark: you’re sure he’s fine?_

_Happy Hogan: He’s a tough kid, Tony. He just misses you._

_Tony Stark: I’ll give him a call. Thanks Hap_

xXx

The plane was on its way to London. The door to the pilot seats where Happy was sitting had been closed. The last of Peter’s suit was being printed and he was sitting alone in the makeshift lab.

It felt wrong to call it “makeshift,” though. State of the art technology was implemented into the area, and it was honestly one of the most impressive things Peter had ever seen.

“Peter,” Karen spoke from one of the machines. “TONY is requesting a follow up from earlier. May I patch him through?”

“Yeah, sure. Put him through.” Peter rarely had an AI do a follow up, save it for Karen a couple of times. Even then, it was only with his worst injuries, so it was a little out of the ordinary.

“Hey, Pete.”

Still working on the pieces of his web shooters, Peter said, “Hey, TONY.”

“You really left me hanging there before. You doing alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” He shifted a little more weight onto his leg to prove a point. He was happy to find that the pain was almost nonexistent.

“Would you care to tell me what happened? Before you blacked out on me?”

“Right. Sorry about that.” He winced even though he was speaking to a robot. “Remember when I told you about Mr. Beck? Well, um...” What was Peter supposed to say? Well, he knew what to say like it was scripted. He just hated going back to his same narrative of failure. And now he had to tell... what was left of his mentor. “I was wrong about him. He stole... he stole some of Mr. Stark’s tech and I, uh... I gave him the EDITH glasses and now he has drones and it was a really stupid thing for me to do and I’m so, so sorry-”

“Hey,” TONY interjected, and Peter could honestly say that he had never heard his mentor’s voice with so much caution and care. “That’s not the most important thing, remember? Remember Moving Day? Remember what Mr. Stark taught you then?”

Peter sighed before he answered reluctantly, “My life is worth more than his tech.”

“That’s right. And that’s what I’m concerned about, now.”

“But now I know that he’s just a guy.”

“A guy with Stark’s EDITH technology. With Beck’s hands on the defense system and cloaking tech... He’s dangerous, kid.”

Peter was more fidgeting with the web shooter than putting them together.

“But you’re stronger than him.”

He paused, looking up from his work as if he would see Mr. Stark’s eyes before his own. _If only._

“Pete, you’re probably the strongest person I know, and I know the Hulk.”

“I thought Thor was the strongest Avenger.”

“It’s not about the technicalities, kid. I’m trying to have a moment.” Peter laughed as TONY continued. “You’re the strongest person I know. You’re the strongest person Mr. Stark knew. You have more heart than anyone, and one day, you’re going to be the best of us.”

“Thanks,” he said under his breath, smiling to himself. He furrowed his brows. “TONY?”

“Still here.”

“I’m not sure if I’m ready... How will I know when I’m ready?”

“Well, if you asked me, I would tell you that you’re ready. I know you are,” he said with confidence. “But when you will know, I can’t say.” There is a beat of thought. “You won’t know.”

“Did he know?”

No further explanation was needed for an answer. “No. God, he knew least out of everyone.”

“So how did he figure it out?”

“It’s a leap of faith,” TONY said, like it was the end all be all—like it could solve all of Peter’s problems. “That’s all it is, Pete. A leap of faith.”


	13. Never Tell Me The Odds

_**London, England** _

_**June 14, 2024** _

Once Peter made it to the Tower Bridge, it was all a blur from there. A storm of hundreds of Stark Industries’s drones chased him in every direction. Peter webbed them up and electrocuted them and kicked and punched and pretty soon, it was just him and Quentin Beck, waiting with a few drones at his side.

Peter’s red and black suit was scorched and the fight was wearing Peter out, but his job wasn’t done.

He burst through the glass into the top of the bridge, grabbing Beck and holding him up by his mocap suit. Peter hung from the ceiling as he looked down at the man in his grip.

“Your lies are over, Beck.”

“This certainly isn’t ideal,” he sighed, “but I have contingencies.” Peter’s eyes shot up to the sound of a whirring drone. “EDITH?”

A blast sent Peter flying to the ground and to the opposite side of the bridge. He got up slower than he would have liked, holding his side and finding his injuries from earlier. He coughed, catching his breath and straightening up for another round of fire.

“Just give me the glasses,” Peter demanded as he clenched his fists.

Beck pulled the glasses out from his suit and held them up for Peter to see. A drone at each side waited like throne-room guards for Beck’s command. “You want these? Come and get em.”

More drones crept through the windows, guns aimed towards Peter.

Then they were gone. Beck was gone. The bridge and the noise and the dreary London sky disappeared in an instant, leaving Peter to the now familiar blackness.

He took in a deep, steadying breath. He closed his eyes in surrender to the darkness. “Come on, Peter Tingle,” he quietly willed.

Eyes glued shut and with no strategic thought, Peter ran towards the drones. His body moved for him, and he found himself leaping, punching, flipping, and kicking his way through the line of drones.

“Why aren’t these drones firing,” Beck questioned, sounding slightly panicked.

“You are in the strike zone. The chances of you getting hit are-”

“No!” He yelled back at EDITH, almost like he was disguising his fear with rage. “Fire all the drones, now!”

The shower of bullets started back up again. Peter blocked the shots with a disabled drone before tossing it aside to take out the others. He knocked one that went spiraling, its bullet flying in all directions, one of the strays hitting Beck in the abdomen.

The last of the drones were smashed with little difficulty, leaving only pieces of themselves and flames in their wake. Peter hobbled towards Beck, who was sitting on the ground propped up against the wall.

“Beck!” He ripped his mask off to look down at the man before him. “You lied to me, and I trusted you.”

“And that’s... the most... disappointing part.” Beck squinted up at Peter with a hand wrapped around his waist. He breathed heavily, fading quickly. “You’re a good person, Peter. Such a weakness.” He closed his eyes when blood began to drip from the corner of his mouth.

“Stark was right,” Beck continued. He pulled the glasses from out of his suit and reached them up in Peter’s direction. Peter’s eyes were trained on them. “You do deserve them.”

Peter reached out and grabbed a wrist by his head.

The gunshot rang out before his mind could even register what had happened.

He looked to his right, seeing Beck standing there, gun to Peter’s head and arm trapped in his hold. The man who was just on the floor disappeared as the illusion was dropped. Peter’s voice shook with adrenaline when he squeezed Beck’s wrist, causing the gun to clatter to the ground.

“You can’t trick me anymore.”

Peter took the glasses from Beck’s face. Beck dropped where he stood while Peter put the glasses on for himself.

“EDITH! Turn off the drones!” Peter stood looking out of the shattered window. London sat peacefully far below, and Peter wondered how many people made it. He thought about his friends and Happy and Aunt May.

“Biometric scan complete. Welcome back, Peter. Shall I execute all cancelation protocols?”

“Do it. Execute them all.”

“Confirmed.”

The dozens of drones still hovering over the water lifted off higher into the atmosphere. The air seemed to become lighter. Maybe it was really over. Maybe Peter really _did_ do it.

He laughed, the sound genuine and full of something that could never be explained in its entirety. A smile of relief spread across his face. Peter lifted his head to the sky. Maybe it was something to do with his sixth sense, or perhaps it just came with the sentiment of victory, but in that moment, Peter knew for a fact that Mr. Stark could hear him, wherever he was.

“Thank you.”

Swiping the glasses from his eyes, he turned to look at Beck, who was now a heap on the floor.

“How could you do all this?”

The man never looked in Peter’s direction. He only stared, still, silent, and lifeless. “You’ll see, Peter. People,” he breathed, a small smile creeping through his features, “they do believe. And nowadays... they’ll believe anything.”

Beck’s smile shifted into a vacant expression as his breathing stilled. Peter lifted the glasses back to his eyes, still unwilling to take his eyes off the threat. The glasses shook in his nervous hold. “Is he... is this real?”

“All illusions are down, Peter.”

All illusions were down. This was all real. Maybe reality wasn’t all that bad. Maybe sometimes, the truth could serve as a comfort.

xXx

Peter had called Happy. He told him that Mysterio was gone and the fight was over. He even managed to kiss MJ. Things were looking up for him.

He stood on the bridge amongst the wrecked cars, rubble, and flames, waiting for Happy to drop by and pick him up. The adrenaline was finally wearing off, and exhaustion was seeping through every inch of Peter’s body. The smell of burning rubber and gunpowder was suddenly overpowering.

Peter glanced down at himself, taking in the damage. His leg was definitely broken again, and he might have had a sprained ankle. He brought a hand up to his midsection, feeling for damage to his ribs. Peter supposed those things were the worst of it and that that was a good thing, but something still felt off.

A low buzz was humming at the back of his skull, steady yet incredibly obnoxious. Then there was the fuzziness on his neck. The hairs there and on his arm stood stick straight, sending shivers down his spine. Peter imagined it like the fire drills at school—too-bright, flashing lights, high-pitched blaring of the alarms, this anxiety that would build up in his chest despite the fact that there was no real threat to be seen.

It felt wrong. Very wrong.

He whipped around, looking in every direction behind every car and building for... something. Anything that moved.

“Peter. My scanners seem to be slightly malfunctioning.”

“What?” How could EDITH be malfunctioning? Why was this happening? Why now? There were a million questions in his labyrinth of thoughts.

It only got more confusing from there.

His vision was dark, but not from an illusion. A sack was placed over his head, Peter felt strong arms holding him in place to some extent. He would have been able to break free easily if his mind wasn’t flipping away when he felt a prick at the side of his neck. All of Peter’s fear was gone in an instant, replaced with a fuzzy warmth like sleep.


	14. Well, It’s Groundhog Day Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, my guys... The beginning of the end.
> 
> I tried. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

_**London, England** _

_**June 14, 2024** _

When he cracked his eyes open again, Peter had more questions than answers. He’d seen all the movies before, and if they were to be believed, he would have guessed that he would find himself in another jail cell or in one of those interrogation rooms with his hands tied behind his back.

Instead, Peter sat up a little and looked around at the plain room. White picture frames hung on the white walls, a white lamp sat on a white nightstand, and a white fan hung from the white ceiling. The blinds covered the window, only allowing slivers of sunlight to peak through. There weren’t even handcuffs or restraints of any kind. Peter was laying on a simple, twin bed that sat awkwardly in the very center of the room.

It was like looking at a broken mirror of home.

When Peter looked up from the bed beneath him, he shuddered when he looked directly into Beck’s eyes. The man, dressed in casual, white clothes, sat in a white chair in the corner of the white room with his legs crossed lazily.

“I’m not going to lie,” he began, voice even. “I am impressed. I like you, Peter. I always have.”

Peter sat still in shock. This couldn’t be happening. He had just watched Beck... Beck was gone. Even so, he sat with an expression that looked similar to pleasure to Peter. The thought caused something to settle uncomfortably in Peter’s stomach.

“It was never part of my plan to get you involved. You know that.” Beck grimaced. “Such a shame, the way it all had to play out in the end.”

“This,” Peter started, stunned, “this isn’t real.”

“Are you so sure?” Beck questioned him as he squinted. He rose from his chair to stand at the foot of the bed, but Peter was glued to his spot. “When have I ever lied to you, Peter?”

Peter only thought about it for half a second, before a sudden sharpness in his neck took him by surprise. He realized too late that Beck had plunged a syringe into his left side. A moment after, he could feel an iciness flow through his veins.

“If given the opportunity, anything could be real.”

xXx

Time felt weird. The air was a little harder to breathe with it being so thick. His body felt awkward and incredibly heavy, but his mind felt light. Too light, like it was about to slip from his grasp and fly away. He thought he didn’t want that to happen, but thinking was really hard.

“How do you feel, Peter?” Beck’s voice sounded strange.

With whatever was in his system, Peter couldn’t tell that Beck had left the room with the door locked, talking to him through a speaker behind one-way glass.

“What do you see?”

“‘S dark,” he slurred. “Always so dark.”

“Do you know where you are?” The question seemed to grab Peter’s attention. His brows furrowed, and his mouth hung open for a moment as he thought.

“I’m... Am I on vacation?”

“Oh, no no. Not anymore,” he stated simply.

“‘M friends... Where are my... friends? I want my friends.”

“Don’t worry about that, Peter. Everything’s under control. Now tell me what happened before you fell asleep.”

“My friends,” he continued. Peter was obviously delirious, but that would never stop him from being incredibly persistent. “Danger. They’re in danger?”

“The danger is gone-”

“EDITH, what’s going on?” A man at Beck’s side gave a hesitant look at the reference of the AI. It turned out that Peter always seemed to keep his earpieces handy.

“Should we do something about that?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just put some dampers on the signals.” Beck starred at his victim from the other side of the glass. There was a firm frown set on his face, but the glint in his eyes showed something that could only be described as cruel and terrifying. “His brain’s too screwed up. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Peter’s breath was starting to catch up. His eyes and his mind were unfocused, and Peter hated every bit of it.

“I regret to inform you that something is interfering with my systems,” EDITH told him.

“No no no. EDITH, I need... He’s supposed to be dead. I don’t know what’s going on-”

The voice cut back in through the speaker. “What do you remember, Peter?”

“I...”

“I thought you were smarter than this. Stark seemed to think so.” The mention of the name seemed to hit something in Peter, his eyes stilling and growing a little wider. Behind the one-sided glass, Beck said to his men, “Come on. I think we’re done here for now.”

“EDITH-”

“My services are unstable, Peter,” EDITH said, cutting in and out. “May I suggest me transferring you to another system?”

There was barely any time in between EDITH disconnecting and a new voice coming through Peter’s earpiece.

“EDTIH is offline. What’s going on?”

Silence filled the air. Peter could hardly think, but he knew that voice.

“Pete?”

“Oh, thank God,” he said with a dopey smile. The reaction had the opposite effect on the other end of the call.

“I’m here to help, kid. I’m going to have to work with tracking your comms.” Peter made a confused look, and only when he glanced down at the loose, white clothes on his body did he realize that he was no longer in his suit. “Can you give me the rundown?”

“I’m... on vacation... with Mysterio.”

“Pete, I need some help here,” TONY said, much more stern but gentle than before. “Are we talking blood loss, or drugs, or-”

“Drugs!” He said, beaming. “It’s drugs.”

“And you’re with Mysterio?”

“Yeah...” Peter’s eyes swept the room, his vision blurry but still doing the job. “He’s not here anymore, though.”

“He’s gone?”

“Mhm.”

There was silence as TONY thought. “Alright, give me a second here, Underoos. I have some homework to do.”

xXx

This was it. Tony was going to kill someone. He was convinced.

He was going to kill Beck first. Then Fury. He was going to kill Peter for all of the stress he was causing him, all because his kid could never find an easy way to do the job. He could have swore there were more gray hairs taking over his dark ones. The bags under his eyes were too prominent, and his head was starting to hurt more and more often. So much for doctor’s orders.

But there were bigger fish to fry now, Tony considered as he pulled up any and all articles that might be important. He would have to wring Peter’s neck once he found him.

There wasn’t much to be found about Beck at the time. There were stories from a few days ago in Venice that Tony had already read through. Besides that and the occasional piece of fanart, there wasn’t much jumping out at him.

It didn’t take long before the stories started trickling in. One by one, dozens of articles were released, all talking about the results of the attack in London. Bingo.

Tony squinted at the screen before him; a blurry image was the only evidence for now, showing two people at the top of Tower Bridge.

“Enhance image.” The picture zoomed in on the figures, revealing Peter standing by the window with the EDITH glasses on his face and Beck on the ground.

Well, this only made matters more confusing.

“FRIDAY,” Tony shouted, eyes glued to the image on the screen. “Read me the newest article on the attack in London.”

“The newest report came out 5 minutes ago, from BBC News. ‘There is still so little known about the attack that occurred this afternoon in London. Reports came in around 11:15 this morning of another monster attack, similar to those of Ixtenco, Venice, and Prague.’” As FRIDAY relayed the scene, Tony searched for any more pictures that would help in his search. “‘While it has not yet been confirmed by law enforcement, it is quite clear that Quentin Beck, the man behind the Mysterio mask, was killed in the fight.’”

“Killed?”

“That is what the report says, boss. It also seems that there are theories floating around about his death, the most popular being that Spider-Man killed him.”

xXx

Peter wanted to bring his hands up through his hair. He would if his brain could send the message to do so. Plus, he honestly couldn’t really feel his hands anymore, or the rest of his body, for that matter. As much as he told himself to chill, it was really starting to get to him.

“TONY,” Peter called out, more desperate than he would have liked. “TONY, are you still there?”

“Right here, Spiderling. Not planning on going anywhere.”

His voice sounded a little more pleased when he said, “I feel like... like I’m swimming.”

“That’s okay, Pete. We’re just going to have to work around that for now.” TONY sounded more frantic than before.

“TONY?”

“Yup.”

“Is Mr. Beck dead?”

There was a longer-than-normal pause until TONY spoke. “No. He’s not dead.”

“I-” Peter choked, and it sounded to much like a sob. “I didn’t kill him?”

It was a strange thing to seek comfort in—the murderer still being alive—but the kid’s morals always came high above his own safety. “You didn’t kill him, Pete. I promise.”

“I keep... seeing it,” he explained. “Over and over again, and in different ways every time. I don’t remember doing that.”

_Shit. Beck really did a number on him with those drugs._ “Kid, he’s messing with your mind. No one was killed today, you hear me?”

There was another pause. “TONY?”

“What is it, Pete?”

“I, I- um... oh god... I did it...” he gasped. “It was me... no no no it was _me_ -” He was cut off by a cry.

“What was you? Talk to me. _Talk_ to me, kid.”

“I used the drones, TONY. I-I used the drones and I used EDITH and I told her to execute and I, I killed him, TONY. God, I _killed_ him.”

“No you didn’t,” TONY said firmly. “That wasn’t you. He’s tricking you. You didn’t hurt him. You would _never_ hurt him. I know you Pete, and I know that you would never do that.”

“But I _did_ ,” Peter sobbed hysterically. Whether it was the poison in his brain talking or some very real grief, TONY wasn’t sure. “He was on the floor and he was just... he was just gone, and it’s all my fault!”

“Pete, you have to listen to me-”

“He looked so much like my uncle. He looked like my uncle! On the ground, bleeding, and Ben’s dead cause of me, and now Beck is dead cause I killed him, and-”

“Peter, please listen to me!” The shouting actually seemed to grab Peter’s attention, even if it was just for a moment. “None of that is your fault. Remember what I told you about your heart? You’re the best of all of us.”

“But-” Peter gasped, his breathing picking up, “but they’re gone, and I let it all happen. They’re all gone- they’re all dead because of me. Ben is gone and Mr. Beck is gone and even Mr. Stark is gone and I _killed_ them! _I_ killed them!”

Peter was practically hyperventilating. He shivered as tears spilt down his face. It must have been a pathetic sight, he thought. The words were sickening and they made Peter hurt in a way that he could have never imagined, but he deserved the pain.

The voice on the other end of his earpiece was clearer than he had ever heard it, like its owner was right there with him.

“Breathe, Peter. Please, just breathe and listen to me.” TONY’s tone became strikingly soft. “You didn’t kill Ben. You didn’t kill Beck.” He paused at the last name (because _good God_ , his precious, perfect child said he killed him.) “You certainly didn’t kill Mr. Stark. They all made their own choices-”

“ _No!_ ” He screamed, the sound absolutely agonizing. (Tony had never heard him do that before.) “I killed them! They’re all gone and I-I murdered them!”

“No, you didn’t! You wouldn’t.”

“I did! And they’re all gone and they didn’t deserve it and now I’m alone- _God_ , I’m so alone...” Peter trailed off, bawling to the point where his lungs might actually come out.

“Pete-”

“ _Mr. Stark!_ No, no no no he’s gone and it’s all my fault-”

(He couldn’t listen to it anymore. He knew what Beck was trying to do, and there was no way in hell that he was going to let it happen.)

“ _It’s me,_ Peter! It’s not your fault.”

“No...” he said more to himself that anyone. “No, he’s gone. He’s gone and I-I swear I moved on. I’ve moved on and I killed him.”

“It’s me, kiddo. Please listen!” He cried out to Peter—his kid. “It’s Tony. It’s Mr. Stark. I’m here and I... I’m really here. _Please_ believe me.”

“No...” he said in between quieting cries. He was practically shaking, a blubbering mess.

“It’s me. I’m here. I’m alive, okay? Just stop saying that crap, _please_. That’s not you.”

But at least there seemed to be something right with the world. Peter whispered, “...Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, kid.”

“You’re here?”

“Always.”

“I didn’t hurt anyone?”

“You didn’t. You wouldn’t.”

Peter’s features crumbled before he started crying again, and Tony thought that maybe he had done something wrong. “You’re alive.”

“I’m alive. Safe and sound, like you will be soon. You hear me, kid? I’m going to get you out of there.”

“Oh god, you’re alive. You’re alive... Mr. Stark,” he breathed. “I’m... I’m tired, Mr. Stark.”

“Come on. I need you on lookout, bud. We can’t have you zonking out when we don’t know what’s in your system.” Honestly, Tony just wanted to hear Peter alive and breathing.

“I think I’m just gonna take a nap.”

With that, Peter was out like a light. At least he wasn’t having a panic attack, Tony thought. It would be a good distraction while his mentor searched for where he was being kept. Tony would find him in no time. He would be safe, back at home. It had been far too long for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! *jazz hands* Grand reveal!... :D
> 
> Did I do okay? ( ; - ; )


	15. Come My Darling, Homeward Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I skipped Spider-Man Day and didn’t even know it?! Sad boi hour for a sad boi :(
> 
> On a happier note, the story’s almost done! (Yay!) Hope y’all like it!

_**Queens, New York** _

_**June 15, 2024** _

For the sake of whatever was left of Peter’s secret identity, Tony and Happy both thought it the best option for him to fly back to the states with the rest of his classmates. It was tempting to scoop up the kid and take him back home, but they didn’t need any more slip ups.

Peter was easy to find and easy to get back. A little too easy for Tony’s liking, but he would worry about that later. For the time being, he did make sure that the kid’s flight was heavily but not obviously guarded, just in case. He also had FRIDAY track the entirety of the flight, just in case. Security also awaited Peter’s arrival in the U.S., just in case.

Peter went home that day safely with his aunt as he should have. Just like normal, but also a little different. May had known about Venice from Peter’s personal accounts, and as it turned out, she had been closely following the news about the attacks throughout Europe—which was saying a lot, as May was someone who rarely watched the news. ( _It was always so doom and gloom_ , she would say. Peter could never really argue.)

Speaking of new, there was also the whole May and Happy debacle that would need to be sorted out after Peter was able to wrap his brain around it.

All in all, with the hugs and check-ups and tender, genuine _I love you_ ’s, it felt really good to be home.

The paranoia, strangely enough, didn’t completely follow Peter back from the trip. He wasn’t fearing for his life or expecting a man in a Mysterio costume to appear around every corner. He felt safer in Queens with his family. It was a good thing, obviously, but there were still little things that got to him. Peter decided that he liked sleeping with his window open so that the city lights could replace the darkness that swallowed his bedroom.

On one of Peter’s worse nights, when he couldn’t really shake the feeling that he was being hunted in his own home, he got a call from Mr. Stark. It was still really weird to think about, after about nine months of his mentor being dead, but at least it was a welcome change.

“Hey,” Peter answered in a whisper, avoiding using the man’s name. May still had no idea about Mr. Stark.

“Hey, kid. Sorry it’s late,” he said, sounding far too awake but matching Peter’s tone. “Baby woke me up.”

“Isn’t Morgan like, almost 6 now?”

“Doesn’t mean she’ll sleep any better than a newborn. Turns out she woke in the middle of the night desperately needing a juice pop.”

Peter smiled to himself. An image popped into his head of the little girl at the Stark’s cabin. (He refused to think about how they were there dressed in black for the funeral of the girl’s father. He would really rather have a different image of Morgan.)

“I would love to see her again sometime. I mean, if that’s alright. Maybe I could just drop by one day to say hi and then I could go and-”

“Woah, slow down, Pete. I called you. I talk first. Iron Man goes first.”

“Iron Man god complex,” he laughed. “Really?”

“Hey, who was kicking bad-guy ass while you were still being potty trained? God, you sound like Pepper. It’s gross. I thought you were on my side.” Peter laughed again, and Tony took it as his cue. “I called to ask if you wanted to stop by sometime. Tomorrow, if possible.”

“Yes!” Peter blurted, barely letting Tony finish his sentence. He cleared his throat, sitting up in his bed a little straighter than before, as he looked out his opened window with a smile. “Yeah, I’d like to come. I’ll tell May that Mrs. Potts wanted to see me.”

“Sounds like a plan. See you soon, Underoos.”

“Yeah.” He smiled. It really had been too long for both of them. “See you soon.”


	16. Some Things Are Stronger Than Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, my guys! The end of the story! (WooOoAah!)
> 
> Hope ya like it! :)

_**Queens, New York** _

_**June, 2024** _

Peter woke up the next morning to see storm clouds rolling over the city. If he asked, he was sure that Happy would be there to give him a ride, but there was nothing like swinging through the city, and honestly, it had been too long sense he did it on his own terms.

He shouted a goodbye to May as he pulled his mask over his face and jumped out of the window for the first time in forever. He had almost forgotten the feeling. The adrenaline was still there, but not in an anxious way. It was in a heart-leaping, giddy, freeing way. He didn’t realize until then how much he missed it.

Towers and traffic horns turned into the bright green trees of Upstate New York. Peter had never swung to the cabin before, but luckily he had Karen leading the way. He was also slowed down a little by the rain that started coming down, but that was okay. He was just excited to get to his destination.

Despite the trip being almost an hour in actuality, it only felt like a few minutes to Peter. He landed on the front porch of the Stark’s home...

He was at the Stark’s home—their cabin in the middle of nowhere with a garden and a lake and a sunroom. It was all so bizarre. It was so different, but so _them_.

Peter hesitated to walk towards the front door, taking it all in. Maybe he should actually knock on the door. He never had to knock on the door at the Tower or at the Compound. This was more personal, more intimate. What the heck was he doing there, at Tony Stark’s home? Peter suddenly felt incredibly out of place.

In his grand moment of panic, the door opened to reveal Pepper, still wearing pajamas. She had a kind smile on her face, like she was glad to see him—like he was expected, like he was meant to be there.

“Hey, Peter,” she said with a twinkle of admiration in her blue eyes. She examined him in the blink of an eye, and Peter understood why she and Mr. Stark worked so well. “Please, come in. I’m going to get you a towel. You’re soaking.”

He looked down at his suit, seeing that he was indeed dripping all over the covered porch. “Oh, um... thank you, Mrs. Potts, ma’am.”

“You can call me Pepper, sweetheart.”

“Right. Sorry. Thanks, Pepper,” he tried, but the name felt a little weird in his mouth, like it wasn’t supposed to be there.

Pepper walked out of sight from the door to grab a towel, while Peter pulled his mask off and wrung it out. He dropped the backpack that he had slung over his shoulders, praying that his clothes inside were kept dry. They were, for the most part, so that was one less thing to worry about.

Now on to the next thing: Tony freaking Stark. Peter hadn’t seen Mr. Stark in nine months, and up until a couple days ago, he thought he was dead. The truth was, the last time Peter saw his mentor, he was dying on a battlefield. How messed up was that? Even then, while the whole Thanos ordeal felt like a couple of hours for Peter, it had been five years for Mr. Stark. What if he was a completely different person now? What about after the battle at the Compound? Was he changed from using the stones?

What if Mr. Stark wasn’t the Mr. Stark that he had always known?

Peter didn’t have long to freak out over the questions, as Pepper appeared with one of the softest, whitest towels he had ever seen.

“Here you go, hun. You can head to the bathroom just around the corner if you want to change. You’re going to be freezing if you keep that thing on much longer.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, Pepper!” He said excitedly. When he was dried, he picked up his backpack, made his way to the bathroom, and changed into jeans and a blue Midtown sweatshirt. It hit him, in a surreal mix of awe and nervous nausea, that he was in the same house as Tony Stark.

Peter found Pepper working from the couch, and she looked up when she heard footsteps.

“Well, you ready,” she asked with a voice full of hope. She didn’t even have to elaborate. He simply nodded, determination, thrill, and dread rolled into one big ball of Peter Parker. As Pepper got up to lead the way, Peter found himself making a mental note of just about everything. How everything could be different now.

They stopped in front of a door that looked no different from the other doors in the house. It was completely regular, ordinary, never changing. Peter thought he might have putting too much thought into a door. Not only that, but Pepper must have picked up on it as well, cause she held him by the shoulder and peered into his eyes.

“Honey, look at me.”

Peter did as she said hesitantly. He pushed every one of his fears down into his stomach as he watched Pepper. She really was the strong, confident woman that everyone made her out to be.

“It might look scary,” she said, most likely in a similar fashion to how she spoke to Morgan. “It’s just Tony.” Pepper smiled warmly, easing any nerves. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Pepper was right. She was right, she was right, she was right. With one last nod, she turned the handle and opened the door to the bedroom.

Mr. Stark was lying in bed, sitting up against the headboard with a tablet in his hand. He glanced up at the sound, smiling when the two walked in. His whole tired, warn-out demeanor was tossed out of the window in an instant, or at least he hid it well, which Peter already knew to be true.

“My favorite young adult,” Mr. Stark grinned.

The sight was a lot to take in. Mr. Stark looked better than he did last time Peter saw him, but the damage done was still obvious, a permanent reminder of his sacrifice. Peter couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of the metal arm attached to his shoulder.

“Are you okay? You look... on edge.” He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you swung all the way here.”

“Um...” Peter had no clue what to say.

“You did.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say no. Same difference.”

Peter’s mouth hung open in a smile, and Pepper took the opportunity to slip out.

“I’ll be making breakfast. Call if you need me.” She shut the door behind her, leaving the quiet room to just Peter and Mr. Stark. The former stood for a moment, planted like a tree, not knowing what he was supposed to do in a situation like this. No one did!

“Would you rather take a seat than stand in the doorway?” Mr. Stark had a playful smile on face, but Peter was in his own little world. It was all so bizarre. “Kid, you’re killing me. Just come sit over here.”

He did as he was told. He sat at the edge of the bed on Mr. Stark’s right side. Playing with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, Peter kept his eyes in his lap.

“Happy could have given you a ride, you know. I’m sure your suit is soaked.”

“It’s fine. Really.” He took a deep breath, like every breath in this room was sacred. “It’s just been a long time, I guess. It was good. I wanted to swing here.”

Mr. Stark hummed, taking in Peter at the edge of the mattress. “Underoos.”

Peter looked up at the nickname. Something in Mr. Stark’s eyes just looked so earnest and familiar, and it broke something free within him. The man patted the bed, urging Peter to come closer. Peter did.

“It’s crazy, I know. God, it’s so weird.” Mr. Stark looked for his next words carefully. This really was unmapped territory. “But it’s just me. Same as ever. Me and you.”

Peter nodded wordlessly, eyes falling back onto the metal.

“The doctors couldn’t find anything worth saving. It’s fine. It was worth it.” He grinned. He noticed the way that Peter’s eyes twinkled the slightest bit, and he chuckled to himself. _It was so worth it_. He held the hand out to him. “You can check it out, if you want.”

Peter’s hands hovered over the prosthetic, like he was waiting for permission. Mr. Stark nodded, and Peter took it gingerly, flipping it over in his hands. His fingers traced the patterns that were so like the ones on his own palm, only artificial. It was incredible. Peter had never seen anything like it.

“This is... this... wow.” Peter shook his head in amazement, and it was like Mr. Starks humored laugh released another chain binding him. “I’ve just never seen a prosthetic like this. I mean, the detail, the precision- are you moving it with your nervous system?”

“Neuro nanites. It’s more connected to my brain than anything. The nerves are kind of shot, anyways.”

“Huh,” he said with a smirk. He looked back up at Mr. Stark, still holding the gray-silver arm. “I think it could use a little more red,” Peter joked. “It’s just not flashy enough for Tony Stark, you know?”

Mr. Stark laughed. “Don’t worry, Spiderling. There’s an appropriately themed Iron Man arm too. I think the Mrs. was just tired of looking at that ugly thing, so I made a more neutral one for Pepper.”

“Do you have a Spider-Man arm,” he joked.

“FRIDAY,” Mr. Stark said a little louder. “Write that down. I want a red and blue arm, web pattern and all.”

“You’re ideas never cease to amaze, Boss,” the AI responded, both sassy and amused.

“Actually,” Peter started, and for a brief second, he feared that he was crossing the line. “My suit is red and black now. I had to make a new one back in Europe, and um... I actually really like it. It’s different, you know?”

“Put that in the notes too, Fri. Scratch the blue. Make it black,” he explained while he gestured with it left hand. “And you’re going to have to show me that new design when the suit dries.”

“Oh, uh, sure. Sure, I’ll show you. I hope you don’t mind the changes.”

“Of course I don’t mind, kid. It’s your suit.”

The two talked about pointless nothings until Pepper announced that breakfast was ready. They, along with Morgan, whose childish chattiness was immediately silenced with a mouthful of waffles, sat down at the kitchen table for their meal.

Peter didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was watching Mr. Stark the entire time. He just couldn’t help it, and if Mr. Stark caught on to the added attention, he didn’t say anything about it.

After breakfast, Pepper brought Morgan upstairs to watch a movie in her office while she worked, giving the others some needed alone time. Mr. Stark and Peter were left on the living room couch, soaking in one another’s presence. It was almost funny how two of the most talkative people the world had ever seen were so oddly quiet.

They chatted casually, catching up on whatever came to mind.

“I shouldn’t have even watched it. The ending was _way_ better in my head.”

“Oh? I thought the last scene was pretty good. And when they kissed? An absolute masterpiece.”

“What? No way.” Peter shook his head in disbelief. “Rey and Finn were clearly meant for each other. The directors ruined a perfect relationship.”

“Whatever you say,” Mr. Stark said, rolling his eyes jokingly. He crossed his arms to make a point, only to wince at the motion. “I say Ben and Rey are the perfect bridge between the dark and the light. It was beautiful and poetic. You can’t change my mind.”

He squeezed his eyes shut painfully on the last thought.

Peter opened his mouth to retort, but stopped short when he took in Mr. Stark’s expression.

“Hey, are you okay,” Peter asked, concern written all over his face.

“It’s no problem, kid.” Mr. Stark’s shoulders stiffened. “Just a little sore. That’s all. Take this as your warning. Getting old sucks.”

Peter huffed out a laugh, but he saw right through his mentor’s joke. Sometimes, Mr. Stark forgot just how smart the kid really was. “Is your arm bothering you?”

“Only a little. It’s just sore.”

He squinted, making what Mr. Stark had deemed his “thinking face.” (Mr. Stark had teased him about it before, calling it “childish” and “adorable.” Peter liked to think it made him look dignified.) “Would it help if you took it off?”

Mr. Stark’s face fell, barely enough to be noticeable, but it was enough to make Peter feel as if he had crossed the line. The feeling was short lived though, as Mr. Stark responded simply with a nod. “Is that okay with you? It might be a little weird, and it’s a lot to take in, I get it, trust me, but-”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said, affirmatively cutting off the man’s rambling. Since when had Peter been the one to stop _Mr. Stark_ from rambling? “It’s fine. It’s just you, remember?”

The man smiled. It was a sweet yet fierce smile that reminded Peter of Uncle Ben. _Oh, how times had changed._

Tony suddenly felt the gravity of five years of grief weigh on his heart.

“Alright. Here goes nothing.” Mr. Stark masterfully unclipped the restraints that hid under his tee shirt. He busied himself by talking. “To be honest, I never wear these around the house. Only when I feel the need. It gets uncomfortable on the burns.”

Just like that, the prosthetic popped off of the man’s shoulder, and Mr. Stark sighed in relief. The sleeve of his shirt was left hanging empty. Peter decided that Mr. Stark was right; this _was_ weird. It was strange to see the invincible Iron Man—the great Tony Stark—broken and not whole.

But he was whole. Mr. Stark was still Mr. Stark, with or without his arm. He was still Mr. Stark without the Tower and the Compound and the Avengers and the Iron Man suits. Maybe is was strange, but Tony Stark could exist without Iron Man.

That burden was on different shoulders now.

“Could you take this for me, Pete? Just set it down over there?” The question grabbed Peter’s attention, but not enough to drag him from his thoughts. He took the prosthetic, holding it in his hands for longer than necessary—like it was made of glass, but like it also held a tremendous load.

This was on him now.

This was his burden now.

_What a horrifying, gut-wrenching thought._

“Woah woah hey. I’m sorry. I can put it back on. It’s fine if it’s too much.”

Peter didn’t realize until then that his eyes were welling with hot tears. He hurriedly got up to put the arm somewhere else (both so that he didn’t have to hold it anymore and in order to hide his face from his mentor). He stood there, back turned to the couch with his head hung low in shame, regret, and loss.

Mr. Stark was at a loss for words, not knowing what was going on or what he should do. Despite it not being his strong suit, he waited patiently instead of trying to pull anything out of the kid.

“I’m sorry,” Peter started, and Mr. Stark had to listen carefully to even catch the words. “I-It’s not you. It’s not the arm. I’m just... I’m sorry.”

Please, don’t be sorry.

For what the two had been through, Mr. Stark took a chance. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

Peter nodded.

“Come over here. What’s going on?” Peter took his place back on the couch, not looking into the genius’s eyes until he continued. “I want to help you.”

“I can’t do it,” he simply responded.

“Can’t do what?”

Peter sighed. “The world is looking for a hero. They need the next Iron Man and... I just can’t. People want it to be me, but I can’t be what they want me to be.”

“Pete, I’m sure it’s not like that.”

“But it is. I _know_ it is. The press, the police, the public, they all keep asking me who’s going to fill your shoes, and they all say it’s going to be Spider-Man, but I can’t... it just can’t be me.”

“Pete.”

“I wanted to be like you,” he said, the words sounding painful as they got caught in his throat, “but I’m not you. I could never live up to Iron Man.”

There weren’t enough words in the English language to explain the thoughts in Mr. Stark’s head. There wasn’t enough time in their lives to sort out the complex thoughts and feelings of the world around them, and although Mr. Stark could try for words, he knew they would never be sufficient.

Time for an alternative course of action.

Mr. Stark stood, and with his left arm, he reached out to the kid. Peter looked at him, curious while still hiding his face. He took the man’s hand hesitantly, and before he knew it, he was being yanked from his seat into a powerful hug.

Peter stood stiff with wide eyes. Mr. Stark only squeezed him tighter. “Mr. Stark?”

“Shut up, kid. I don’t want to hear any more of it.”

Peter nodded, resting his chin on the man’s shoulder.

“I need you to bear with me, cause I’m going to try to talk my way through this. Alright, kiddo?” When Peter nodded again, he counted it as a small victory and continued. “First things first. You _can_. You hear me? You can.”

“But I just-”

“You _can_ be Iron Man, Pete. I’ve been in the hero gig for years, and I did it. You’re better than me in ways that I don’t even know yet, so you sure as hell can.”

To Mr. Stark’s horror, he heard Peter sniffle as he cried. “I don’t want to.”

“That’s the catch, bambino. You don’t have to.” Mr. Stark chuckled, but the sound lacked any humor. “I don’t even want you to.”

“But the note,” he said wetly. “You wanted me to be the next Tony Stark.”

Mr. Stark took a moment to wish he hadn’t taken off the prosthetic just yet, just so he could hold Peter and put a hand through his curls. He improvised, resting his chin on the top of the kid’s head. “I trusted you to be the next Tony Stark, not the next Iron Man. I never wanted that life for you, kid.”

“The world still needs Iron Man.”

“The world has been turning long before Iron Man was even created. They would be fine without me. Besides, they don’t have to be.”

Peter sagged. “But I... I can’t—”

“I’m not asking you to. _I’m_ Iron Man. I always will be. I only want _you_ to be you. Perfectly human. Perfectly Peter Parker.”

This time, Peter was the one to give a tight squeeze . It was almost painful, given his strength and Mr. Stark’s recovery, but the latter didn’t mind. Not by a long shot. He had been longing for this for five years.

The two stood like that for a long time. Peter’s tears subsided, and Mr. Stark’s hold on him never wavered. Peter glanced up at the man, looking incredibly young, as he whispered the silence away.

“Did you really do it for me?”

“Just so I know that we’re on the same page...”

“Figure out time travel? Find the stones? It’s just... I heard... I was told awhile back that you did. Did you do all that for me?”

“I wish I could say that wasn’t the case,” Mr. Stark sighed, despite the distant smile on his face, “but it was for you, Pete. I was completely content with leaving half of the universe behind. It was selfish of me, I know. It was horrible, and I didn’t think you could ever forgive me for that. But then I took one look at what I used to have.”

“That’s not bad. I probably would’ve said that too.”

Mr. Stark shook his head. “I don’t think so. You would have done it for anyone. Maybe, in the long run, that’s why I did it. Because it’s what you would’ve done.”

“I love you.”

They both froze. Time stood still. Peter thought about taking it back, cause who gave him the right to say such a thing? To the man who saved the universe?

Just as he opened his mouth to apologize, Mr. Stark pulled him into a warm embrace. Peter’s hammering heart was drowned out by the steady rhythm of Mr. Stark’s. Peter swore he could hear tears in each of Mr. Stark’s breaths.

“I love you too, tesoro...”

They each let out a breath.

_This is it_ , Peter thought, letting himself be held by the older man. This was why he came back after so many years. This was why he fought so hard to be the best hero he could be. This was why he was the person who he was in this moment.

_This is it_ , Tony reminisced, clinging to and protecting the kid with every fiber of his being. The reason he got a life and then almost lost it with the snap of his fingers. The reason that now, after an eternity of sorrow and guilt, he finally felt as if he could breathe easily. The reason why he saved the universe— _his_ universe.

Peter and Tony realized together in an instant, with misty eyes and faint, heartbreakingly happy smiles, that this was it. This was where they were meant to be. This was where they would take on the world and anything beyond. This was where they would be when their hearts gave out, ever-increasing and never ceasing.

This was family, safe and sound.

This was life, full and wondrous.

This was love, boundless, free, and true.

“...more than you could ever know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s a wrap! Pretty good? Maybe?
> 
> Thank you to all of you who stuck around to read! To those who left kudos and comments, you, my dudes, are awesome! Thank you for encouraging me and bringing a little joy to my day!
> 
> If you want to see more stories like this, please leave me a message, and I’ll consider adding it to my list of projects. If you have any ideas for a one-shot or full-length story, show me your prompts! You guys have way better ideas than I do! Stick around if you liked what you read and you want to see more.
> 
> Anyways, thank you again! I love y’all, and I hope you enjoyed! :D


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